Il mio re
by Europe28
Summary: Sitting in the gutter Thomas wiped his eyes quickly, frightened of what someone might say if they saw him crying like a girl. His father had always told him that only girls cried and that men who cried usually had something unnaturally wrong with them. Henry/Cromwell. Warnings that generally go along with this pairing stand.
1. Chapter 1

Sitting in the gutter Thomas wiped his eyes quickly, frightened of what someone might say if they saw him crying like a girl. His father had always told him that only girls cried and that men who cried usually had something unnaturally wrong with them.

But it was because of his father that he was now sitting in the back streets of his home town struggling to swallow his sobs while cradling his arm against his chest.

He was ten years old, or there about, almost a man, he'd decided that it was time to stand up against his father and tell him to leave his mother alone.

Thomas didn't exactly understand why his mother was always in tears and covered in bruises but he did know that his father was the cause.

So when his father had come home last night stinking of ale and shouting violent curses in the kitchen Thomas had come out to face him, narrowly overtaking his mother who had come as well to try and calm her husband.

He hadn't even opened his mouth before his father grabbed hold of his arm, slamming it at a painful angle against the wall. Thomas had heard it snap, then like some childish girl he'd run from the house and found a hiding place in the gutter where he'd stayed all night.

The excruciating pain in his arm had settled to a soft throbbing as he'd gotten used to it, but he was shivering and dirty now.  
His father would be working with today's orders by now so hopefully he'd be able to sneak back into the house unnoticed.

Clambering to his feet Thomas almost fell back down again as his arm gave a painful yowl of protest. But, forcing himself to take a deep breath and not cry any more Thomas marched back to the house, being sure to enter through the back door.

Sure enough he could hear his father now outside by the front of the house working away at horseshoes and arguing prices with his customers. All he had to do now was sneak back into his room and wait for the pain in his arm to stop or for it to bend the right way and have it look like an arm again.

"Thomas!"

Thomas jumped, spinning around and coming face to face with his mother. She took one look at his arm, paled and began motioning him back towards the back door.

"Your arm is broken Tom we have to get you to the doctor's," her blond hair shimmered in the sunlight as she shook her head stressfully, casting a look towards the kitchen door, knowing her husband was somewhere in that vicinity.

Broken?

Thomas didn't like the sound of that, broken didn't sound right, usually when you broke something that was it, unless you were someone like his father it was impossible to mend.

Despite his best efforts he began to cry again.

His mother made him stop, placing one hand on his good shoulder arm and forcing him to look at her.

"Tom look at me, I want you to promise you won't ever face your father like that again okay?" Her blue eyes reflected his own similarly shaded irises. Thomas nodded slowly, sniffing and continued to follow his mother down to the local doctor's practise.

"Where are Elizabeth and Katherine?" Thomas suddenly remembered his two sisters, he hadn't seen them since last night at dinner. He hoped that they'd stayed hidden in their rooms and not been an idiot like him.

"Katherine went out looking for you earlier, hopefully we'll see her on the way and she'll see your safe, and Elizabeth went to get me some bred from the market," his mother's eyes swept worriedly around the street as if hoping to spot her eldest child who had left the house at dawn to find her brother.

As they travelled through the streets Thomas noticed several soldiers milling around, occasionally calling something out to a passing woman. Some of the women giggled and others hurried past quickly with their morning's shopping clasped tightly against their chests.

"Why are their soldiers around?" Thomas asked, trying to distract himself from the numb feeling below his shoulder.

His mother pursed her lips, waiting until they had passed the soldiers before answering. "The King is afraid of a rebellion, some of the people have been stirring up trouble recently".

"Why?" Thomas still felt this didn't completely answer his question,  
"People don't like taxes Tom, it's what most rebellions are about, the King is just being careful."

Thomas nodded, looking back over his shoulder at the soldiers who were just vanishing from sight around a corner, they'd almost reached the doctor's now.

"Oh Tom!" Out of nowhere his sister Katherine wrapped her arms around him. Thomas flinched as she touched his arm and she quickly pulled back looking at the limp limb with a look of disgust. "How could father do something like that?" She turned to look at their mother, "it shouldn't be allowed mother."

Their mother sighed and nodded, "I'm taking him to see the doctor, now you run along and see if you can find Elizabeth and help her carry the shopping."

Katherine looked annoyed at being dismissed but she vanished all the same, running down the road, the hems of her well-worn skirt trailing along the muck, still childlike in so many ways, though Thomas had been told that his sister would be a woman very soon and was likely to be married in a few years.

The doctor's office wasn't really an office, it was just a small building on one of the street corners with a few benches outside that were already filled with coughing and sickly looking people.

Thomas knew that going to the doctors always meant you were really ill, nobody would risk getting so close to other sick people if they could help it.

Leaving him outside, his mother went into the building to talk with the doctor, she then reappeared, motioning to him with her finger to come inside.

"Why are we being seen before the others?" Thomas asked, noting how his mother's cheeks turned a faint trace of pink, she didn't answer him.

The doctor was a well known man in the town, as one of the learned people of the town he automatically demanding respect, after all Thomas didn't know anybody else who could read and write like Mr Baxon the doctor.

Mr Baxon glanced at Thomas' arm then at his mother and sighed, "poor boy, but don't worry we'll have this arm straightened out soon enough, then you'll need to rest it for a few weeks until I say it's okay."

Thomas nodded, allowing Mr Baxon to take his arm.

A painful bolt ran up his shoulder blade followed by a click of bone, Thomas couldn't hold back a short yell of agony as he waited for the burning feeling in his arm to settle again.

But at least his arm looked the right shape again.

Mr Baxon told him to hold still while he fetched some cloth from his draws to hold it in while it mended properly.

"I've heard the young prince is coming along well," Mr Baxon made conversation while he worked, "they say he can already ride a horse like one of the best soldiers... Shame about his older brother, such a sickly looking chap..."

"Have you seen the princes?" Thomas' mouth dropped open in astonishment. His mother told him to hush but Mr Baxon only laughed, returning with a large rag which he began tying around Thomas' neck into a sling.

"No, but I have a friend who's friend's with their doctor and he gives me all the news," Mr Baxon winked, "but you mustn't let my talk cloud your judgement of our next King, I'm sure he's just going through a faze, before we know it he'll be out with Prince Henry playing Tennis and chasing his mother's dog."

Thomas was left to his own thoughts as he imagined a huge bright green garden where the sun always shone out of a blue sky. Two boys in his head were running through the garden with a sleek well-fed dog without a care in the world. They would learn Latin and maths and all the things that Thomas knew he'd never even have a chance to get to know.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the whispered discussion between his mother and the doctor, and only returned to reality when his mother patted him on his good shoulder and led him from the office.

Some of the soldiers were still wondering the streets but Thomas noticed that a few of them had disappeared from sight, although every now and then Thomas thought he heard a giggle coming from one of the alleys that his mother rushed him past.

As they began approaching the house his mother told him that it was best his father didn't see him while his arm was healing so to stay to his room and rest.

That was how Thomas spent the next few boring weeks, with his mother delivering his meals and his sisters coming to talk to him every now and then. But it wasn't all bad, once a week Mr Baxon came to visit to check how his arm was doing and he was always interesting to talk to.

It was on the second visit that Thomas was telling him about the pattern he'd noticed in the words on some of the shops, of course very few shops had words on them, there was no point really considering most of them couldn't read, but he remembered the shapes of some of the letters.

Mr Baxon had taken out a quill and a piece of scrap parchment and asked Thomas to draw them for him.

Thomas did more than that, he wrote out the full words, making the pattern letters he'd noticed extra thick.

B**a**k**e**r

B**u**tch**e**r

D**o**ct**o**r  
Gr**o**c**e**r

And for extra measure he threw in a few more words he'd collected to prove his point. He pointed to the letters A, E, I, O and U. "They show up everywhere, why is that?"

Mr Baxon had looked quite startled, then he began to explain what vowels were and Thomas listened carefully. Then Mr Baxon told him what the words he'd written said and helped him to sound them out letter by letter.

By the end of it Thomas had learnt what all the letters stood for, including two special letters 'X' and 'Z' that Mr Baxon wrote out for him, though Mr Baxon assured him that they were very rare and he wouldn't have to use them very much.

Over the next week Thomas practised writing with his good arm and by Mr Baxon's next visit he was able to present him with the scrap parchment he'd left covered with his own name, the names of his family members and the doctor's own name with a squiggly 'X' in the middle.

When Mr Baxon left that evening, Thomas could hear him outside talking in hurried excited tones with his mother, but the only word he caught hold of was his own name. Hopefully that meant that he was getting better and would be able to be out and about again soon.

Thomas had tried explaining letters to his siblings but they didn't seem very interested. Elizabeth liked to see her own name written down and for a while she tried to copy Thomas' hand writing but she kept messing up and Thomas didn't want to waste the one sheet of parchment he had.

After that moment though when he'd shown Mr Baxon his writing the doctor had started coming back everyday, sometimes bringing his own books with him.

Thomas wasn't sure that his father would like the idea of another man being in the house, and he knew his father wouldn't like that Thomas was learning how to read and write, that was for their betters he'd always said.

"Your a bright boy Tom I hope you know that" Mr Baxon told him one evening after Thomas had finished reading an extract from one of his law books. Thomas liked the law books best, they were a hidden gateway into the world above him where real decisions that changed the country and the world were made, it was exciting to even feel yourself on the boundaries of such a thing.

But he also loved the atlases that Mr Baxon let him see in his office after his arm was better. They showed maps and illustrations of far off places like France and Italy, even the names sounded exotic.

Mr Baxon had started teaching him a little Latin, it was more difficult to understand than it had been to learn his native language, but Thomas found that as long as he concentrated he would get it right in the end.

But with all this new knowledge had come a new desire inside him, the desire to travel and see the world and to fight in the battles that all the older men talked about with such longing fondness.

When he told Mr Baxon about this the man had laughed, "you don't want to fight in a war Tom they're nasty businesses."

Thomas hadn't replied to this but he didn't accept it. He wanted to see the world and he was going to fight in battles, what else could he do with himself.

Boys like him didn't get to go to university like Mr Baxon had and they wouldn't inherit money. It was either stay here and become a farmer or a blacksmith like his father or join the army as a soldier or even better, a mercenary and at least have the chance of doing something different.

Mr Baxon had also started spending a little time with Katherine, she wasn't as interested in books and things like Thomas but she did like the young lawyer that Mr Baxon had introduced her to in his office when she'd come to give Thomas' sling back.

Strangely enough Thomas was surprised to see how much like Mr Baxon Katherine looked. Of course she had her mother's eyes, they all had their mother's eyes, but Thomas and Elizabeth also had their father's dark thick hair, whereas Katharine's hair was a shiny brown like Mr Baxon's.

"Do you think?" Elizabeth giggled, when her and Thomas were out in the market. Thomas had a new law volume under his arm that Mr Baxon had found him. He'd been hoping to get a chance to read it while they were out but Elizabeth was in a talkative and giggling mood so he knew he had to keep an eye on her.

"Do I think what?" Thomas rolled his eyes at his sister's immaturity,

"That Mr Baxon is really Katharine's father?"

The question came so suddenly, Thomas hadn't even thought about it and had never imagined such a thought to come from his little sister. He opened his mouth to shoot her down and then found that he couldn't, in vague memory he remembered his mother blushing while she was with the doctor and talking to him in hushed tones.

What if they were all the illegitimate bastards of Mr Baxon?

Thomas pulled himself together, there was no way that could be true, he and Elizabeth looked alike and he looked like his father, so Katharine was the odd one out.

Then something caught his eye, pinned to one of the walls in the square. A few of the soldiers were hovering around it, nudging one another excitedly.

_**Wanted: Strong Men between 14 and 25 to sign up on a voyage to France on an important trading voyage. Please apply at...**_

Thomas memorized the address. He wasn't actually sure how old he was, his mother and father couldn't count but Mr Baxon had told him knowledgeably that his sister was sixteen and she was about two or three years older than him, so he might be fourteen.

With a sudden leap of excitement in his heart Thomas handed the basket back to his sister, the law book still folded under his arm.

"Elizabeth tell mum I'm going away for a bit okay,"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "where are you going?"

"To France," Thomas almost laughed as he said it before turning and running down the street in the right direction of the address on the poster.

A voice inside was trying to tell him how rash he was being and that he should just go home and forget about this. But another part of him knew that this might be the only chance he got to travel, he could arrive in France then catch a ride through the Germanic States to Italy.

He would find a sword and train hard to become a mercenary and fight in battles the old folk could only dream of. Life started here, that's what he told himself.

Knocking on the door of the largest building in town Thomas waited until a booming voice answered.

Finding his new found courage ebbing slowly away, Thomas pushed the door open a crack to reveal a huge wonderfully decorated room. The floor was clean and didn't smell of shit and there was even a painting on the wall above a desk, behind which a large burly man sat making notes with his quill on a piece of parchment.

Thomas stopped in front of the desk.

He was tall for his age but even he felt tiny compared to this great beast of a man.

The man stopped writing and looked at him.

"Are you lost boy?" His tone sounded mocking, and he chortled slightly at some joke he didn't care to voice.

"No, I've come to sign up for the voyage," Thomas swallowed, trying to sound confident, "I'm fourteen and my father's a blacksmith so he's strong and sons tend to inherit those things."

The man behind the counter looked at him for a moment then burst out laughing, bringing his hand to his head and shaking it.

"A Blacksmith's son? Who read the note for you?"

"I-I can read" Thomas stammered, showing the man the law book he still had under his arm.

Now the man really did go silent, a thoughtful look processing over his features, then him rested his chin on his thick fingers, "prove it," his voice was low and challenging, but Thomas knew he had nothing to fear because he could prove it.

He read out the first line from chapter 3, then the book was snatched from his hands. The man studied the text carefully and then dropped it back into Thomas' arms.

"What else can you do?"

"I can speak a little Latin and I know a bit about maths" Thomas told him honestly, clutching the book closely to his chest, drawing confidence from it, "I also know about English law and German law, I'm studying Italian law at the moment."

The man grinned, dipping his quill into the bottle of ink and bringing it back over the paper. "I think we've got a good job for you mister...?"

"Cromwell, Thomas Cromwell" Thomas introduced himself, excitement again beginning to bubble in his chest.

"Hmmm..." The man jotted down Thomas' name on his parchment, the pulled back another grin revealing a black toothed mouth, "I'm the Captain of this vessel, you will call me Captain on the voyage,"

"Y-yes Captain," Thomas wasn't sure whether he should salute as well, but he just stood still, wondering what happened next.

"The other sign ups are sleeping downstairs, you're in luck, you were out last sign up, we leave tomorrow."

Nodding, and glad he didn't have to go home to face his hysterical mother Thomas scurried down the stairs that the Captain had indicated.

When he entered the cellar it was to find over twenty young men, almost twice his width in muscle talking, shouting and playing cards. Thomas' mother had always told him that playing cards was a one way road to hell so Thomas made a vow to avoid this particular past time while on board. Finding himself a discrete corner with enough light he settled down to read some more of his book and think about the adventures to come.

The next morning Thomas and the other men were woken at dawn to make their way to the River Themes where their ship was waiting.

A rumour Thomas had heard last night from the others was that the King himself was going to be there to send the ship off.

As they marched from Putney to central London Thomas took note that however old he was, he was definitely the youngest of the party. Although they were young, the others were men with deep voices and huge muscles that showed they were used to soldiering or sailing.

Thomas didn't recognise any of his townspeople in the party, he supposed that their illiteracy meant they hadn't been able to read the sign, and even now Thomas was sure the only reason he'd gotten a place was because he'd been able to amuse the Captain by being able to read.

Central London was almost like everything he'd imagined it to be. The sky was still dark even over here, but the closer they got to the river the more grand and impressive the houses became.

Women with clean white dresses stopped to giggle at some of the older men while a few of the men cheered them on their way.

For the first time in his life Thomas felt like holding his head high.

A few of the other men in the party had taken note of him, though nobody had said anything, perhaps they weren't sure exactly why a boy a small and weedy as Thomas appeared was going on this tough voyage with them.

The ship itself was bigger than Thomas' house made of solid strong looking wood. A long gangplank spread out from the ship joining it to the quay so the men could mount the vessel and dismount when they reached their destination.

"Look!" He heard one of the other men whisper excitedly, pointing in the direction of a particularly fine looking seat in the centre of the crowds.

A tall thin man sat there with two young boys either side of him and his wife on slightly smaller chairs.

The eldest boy looked about Thomas' age with fair blond hair but a sickly demeanour, whereas the younger brother with fierce eyes was watching everything with the agitation of youth, looking very much like he wanted to go on the voyage himself.

Thomas saw the boy's mother put a hand on his shoulder and give him a firm look. Then it hit Thomas, this was the royal family!

King Henry VII, his wife Elizabeth of York and the two princes Arthur and Henry.

The younger prince caught Thomas' eyes, Thomas looked away quickly, raising his eyes again a moment later to see the young prince prodding his mother and pointing at him in a demanding way.

The Queen hushed her son, giving him an even fiercer look that made the boy pout and sulk.

Thomas turned ahead now to the ship, reminding himself that this was where life began.


	2. Chapter 2

Reading to the Captain was hardly the exciting image he'd had of sword fighting and seeing the world, but Thomas supposed it wasn't all bad.

He got the same food as the Captain which looked a lot better than the gruel the other men got and he didn't have to slave away on deck cleaning up.

As much as he wanted to prove himself that sort of stuff didn't look all that appealing.

First he finished reading the law book and then the Captain gave him some other books to read to him. The one downside to this task was that it really stretched his voice and he was certain that he'd lose it before they reached their destination.

"So why did you come on this voyage?" The Captain asked when Thomas took a breath between a paragraph.

Thomas blinked dumbly at him for a moment, regaining his thoughts. "I want to see Germany and Italy, and be a mercenary and fight in battles all over Europe."

The Captain laughed, "lad I doubt you could even pick up a sword,"

"I could so!" Thomas argued back forgetting himself for a moment before recovering with a hesitant and sorry "...Captain."

"Tell you what, let's give your voice a rest, come out on deck with me and I'll teach you some moves."

The Captain had been right, Thomas could just about lift the sword with both hands and even then he couldn't do anything with it.

With a grin the Captain began to boss around the crew, instructing Thomas to keep lifting the sword until he could hold it in one hand.

It was at times like this that Thomas wished he'd helped his dad out more, there was no way he was going to be able to carry this sword in one hand before the voyage was over.

Unfortunately he was right, although after another two days of travelling he was sure he could feel the muscle in his arm strengthening they were within sight of land.

"So I suppose this is where you want to get off" the Captain nudged him, almost unbalancing Thomas who had just managed to hold the sword in his right arm for a few minuets.

"That's right" Thomas told him with a determined look on his face.

The Captain chuckled and handed Thomas a small bag that jangled with coins.

Thomas' eyes widened and he tried to hand it back, "I can't sir,"

"Nonsense, this is your wage plus a little extra for reading so well, take it and spend it wisely," the Captain nodded his head at the sword, "you can take that too and keep practising, one day you'll make as gooder mercenary as you are a reader,"

"I hope to make you proud Captain" Thomas nodded, placing the money on his belt and gripping the sword in both hands.

"But, between you and me; get going fast before I release the rest of the crew, they're eyeing up that money and if they catch you they'll take it and slice you in two with that sword of yours."

Looking up Thomas caught sight of a few of the crew members turn their heads away quickly and swallowed, nodding with wide eyes.

The moment the gangplank was down the Captain had the other crew members carrying and fetching cargo from the ship. Thomas took this chance to sneak down while the gangplank was clear and make a run for it.

It was difficult to run quickly with the sword strapped to his back but sheer fear out of what the others would do to him if they caught him made him press on all the same.

Where was he anyway?

He'd seen enough maps of France to know where everything was, but he needed a sign or something first. He didn't speak French so he couldn't ask anybody, although, he took a mental note, once he'd perfected his Latin perhaps he should teach himself French next, it was pretty much the language of Europe that opened all gateways.

Scrambling to a stop in front of a coach hire he called up to the man, mentioning only the name of the place he wanted to go, "Frankfurt?"

The man on the coach looked alarmed and shook his head.

Okay, so he was quite far from the German border.

They'd been travelling for almost six days so that meant they had to be on the west coast and probably quite far south.

"Bordeaux" the man told him in a strong accent.

Thomas nodded, reminding himself where he was.

"Germany" Thomas insisted, the man sighed and indicated for Thomas to get on, but only after he'd seen the sack of money Thomas was carrying, but he also took note of the sword and bowed his head.

Thomas realised that this sword was a key to getting through the mainland safely, but he knew that if he ever got into serious trouble unless he could actually use the sword it would be of no use to him.

Clambering into the carriage Thomas clung onto his seat tightly as it began to move.

He'd never been in a carriage before and he didn't recognise the gold coins in the bag he'd been given, but for a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to be a rich lord from England travelling France in style.

It would be just like this he told himself.

He was sure that the journey to Germany would cost him a lot of his money and he'd probably have to stay there a while to earn some more to get him to Italy while he worked on his fighting skills.

They had to stop overnight to give the horse a rest and to drink and eat.

The driver led him into a pub and indicated for Thomas to give him a coin.

Thomas did as he was indicated to do, watching the driver's eyes widen at the sight of the gold coin. Then he vanished for a moment into the crowd, returning with lots of silver coins in his hand that he handed back to Thomas.

Gratefully Thomas took them, wondering what had been done with his gold piece.

His answer arrived in about half an hour. A large bowl of soup was placed in front of him and the driver along with a whole role of bread and some ail.

Thomas' mouth dropped open but he ate like it was his last meal, as did his driver. The money had also apparently paid for two rooms over the pub for the night.

Remembering the Captain's warning, Thomas made sure his door was locked and slept with the gold and sword in bed with him.

This money was especially precious to him now that he knew how much he could get for a single coin.

They hadn't really bothered with money at home, they just traded something for this or that. Although his parents had money because his father was in a skilled profession, nobody else did so there was no point to it unless you were visiting the doctors or something like that.

While in the carriage Thomas listened to the driver talking to him in French. From time-to-time he thought he understood a little of what was said to him, French and English didn't seem that different in their basics.

He did lift the sword as much as he could too, finding the weight becoming seemingly less as their journey went on.

Slowly the days began to blend together, until Thomas couldn't remember how many days it had been since they'd started this journey.

Had it been a month yet? Or was it still only two weeks?

The money in the bag was still quite heavy but a lot of it had been used at pubs to eat and stay the night.

He'd decided that the driver was an honest man. Never had he cheated Thomas out of any of his change, though Thomas hadn't realised this until he'd gotten a better grasp on the concept of change and money, and he was chatty enough even if Thomas didn't understand what he was saying most of the time.

"Où sommes-nous?" This was one phrase Thomas had learnt that he was finding excessively useful.

"Dijon" was his reply. So they were still quite a way off from the German border, but they were way past half way now.

Thomas must have dropped off to sleep at some point because he was awoken again just as the sky was getting dark by a violent shake of the carriage that threw him onto the floor.

A tap at the window made his blood freeze.

A man with a scarred face and a sword in his hand was smirking down at him.

Where was his driver? Was he okay?

Scrambling around on the ground Thomas found his sword, thankful that he could pick it up in one hand now, but he'd never had a chance to use it in combat before.

The man outside laughed, throwing open the door and grabbing Thomas by the front of his shirt and pulling him outside.

The stench of blood hit his nostrils, and Thomas had to fight down the bile in his throat as he located the source of the smell.

"Lutte garçon!" The man cackled, waving his sword in a threatening manner that made Thomas stumble backwards and grip his own sword more firmly.

The man lunged, Thomas was quick to realise that the man had a slight limp on his right making him slow.

Using all the speed his youth granted him he dodged, taking advantage of the man's shock to run his own sword through his ribs. He didn't have the stamina or the strength to cross blades with this man he had to end it before it had begun.

The man gasped, backing away, his eyes wide as he fell, he landed with a thump on the dirt.

Thomas withdrew his sword, stabbing at the man's chest once more just to make sure before running back to his driver's side.

But it was no use, nobody that mangled could still be alive.

That was when the full force of what he'd just done hit him.

Blood covered his hands, a mixture of the man's and his driver's.

With a sudden frantic movement Thomas began rubbing them on the grass, staining the greenery red, fighting to calm himself down.

He couldn't just panic, he had to get a hold of himself.

A neigh reminded him of the dark horse that was still attached to the carriage.

Remembering what his mother had done when his grandmother had died Thomas made the motion of a cross over his chest and said a prayer, asking God to take this man into heaven, feeling the need to mention how nice this man had been to him, though he supposed God already knew that, God knew everything.

Without another moment of grievance Thomas made sure the money was still safely in its bag before pulling himself onto the horse's back. He'd never ridden before but he'd seen others do it and it didn't look too hard.

Reaching out his sword he cut the horse from the carriage. The heavy object would only slow them down and Thomas wanted to get to Germany as quickly as he could.

Pressing his heals into the horse's sides Thomas urged it on, faster and faster.

He was wrong, this way not easy.

The world was coming up in front of him like lightning, making his eyes water and sting. He kept the horse on the road, knowing that a road always led to somewhere. Thankfully the full moon overhead illuminated his path so even in half blindness he could steer the horse in the right direction.

After several hours of this he also started to find horse riding exhausting. The animal he was riding was strong after being released from its heavy weight and seemed like it could run on all night, but Thomas had to pull it to a halt on the edge of the road.

He used the reigns to tie it to a near by tree while he rested nearby with his sword ready in his hands in case there were any more men around like that one he'd encountered who had killed his driver.

But he was able to sleep peacefully, albeit lightly for a few hours before the sun began to creep over the horizon and call him back to the horse which had also been snoozing in the shade of the tree.

Without the carriage Thomas knew that he'd be in Germany much quicker, but one problem still remained, it had been at almost twenty-four hours now since he'd left the last pub and his stomach was beginning to give cramped grumbles.

He hadn't seen any pubs on the road last night and even as he trotted further down the road he saw none.

Perhaps it would have been wiser to buy some food from the pubs for emergency situations like this, but what was done was done and he couldn't change anything now.

Thankfully there was a lot of water on the way where he could refill a pouch the Captain had given him while his horse drank and munched on the grass, at least somebody had something to eat Thomas thought to himself as he patted the horse's side.

Then, as the sun was again beginning to sink back into the earth Thomas caught a glimmer of something further down the valley where the road was leading him.

It wasn't a pub but a small well to-do cottage, he only had to prey that they'd accept his money and give him food and shelter for the night.

To tired and hungry to feel nervous Thomas knocked outright on the wood of the door, slouching against the post for support.

"Oh, tu pauvre garçon!" It sounded like a woman's voice, but his vision was too blurry to make out her image beyond her white apron that burned against his vision and onto the front of his brain, making the dizziness that had suddenly come over him even worse.

Everything went black. The last thing he remembered was utter exhaustion and then falling, was he going to die?

Thomas awoke again in a warm soft bed, Thomas had never even seen a bed that could compare with this one.

The blanket and pillow were lined with feathers by the feel of it, not the same coarse material they used at home.

But where was he?

The memory of the woman and slouching down her doorpost came to mind, was he inside the house?

"Ah, vous êtes réveillé," a young girl with long blond hair tied back under what looked like a napkin to Thomas arrived in the doorway, she placed a bowl of warm soup and bread on the table next to him and helped him to sit up.

"Merci" Thomas heard himself murmur as he reached unconsciously for the food, bringing the soup drenched bread to his mouth where he ravaged it hungrily.

The girl giggled and her mother appeared a moment later looking pleased to see Thomas awake and eating.

"Parlez-vous français?" She asked him, leaning down to plump up his pillows while he sat up and ate.

"Un peu" Thomas admitted, unsure whether he was getting his accent right.

The woman clapped her hands together in delight, patting his head, then withdrawing quickly, "Vous avez besoin d'un bain."

Even though his grasp of French was limited, Thomas understood like every boy his age, the universal look for 'Bath'.

Thomas personally hadn't taken a bath since Christmas and it was considered in his town that his family washed far too often.

But the woman was hurrying off again and a few minuets later Thomas glanced out of the window to see her heading towards a water pump with a bucket in her hand.

"Êtes-vous anglais?" The girl asked when her mother was gone, her bright dark blue eyes blinking at him.

"Oui" Thomas replied, giving a wide yawn before asking his favourite question, "Où sommes-nous?"

The girl giggled again, "Strasbourg" she told him, "à la portée de Le Saint-Empire romain germanique."

Thomas didn't understand most of that sentence but he did get the bit on the end that sounded like 'Germany'.

She saw his eyes widen with recognition and smiled

Thomas decided that he liked this girl, she reminded him of his younger sister. Thomas let out a sigh, he hoped his mother had taken it well and that Elizabeth wouldn't cry for too long, it hadn't been his intention to hurt them and he didn't want them to think that.

"Quel est ton nom?" The girl pressed, bringing him back to the here and now.

"My name is Thomas."

The girl repeated his name with another sparkling laugh, "My name is Marie," she mimicked his English. It sounded funny rolling off her tongue with her thick French accent, Thomas supposed that must be what he sounded like to her when he spoke French.

Marie's mother returned, sweeping Thomas downstairs into the kitchen where she instructed her daughter not to enter.

She gave Thomas a firm look that told him clearly to wash himself before leaving him to his privacy.

Cautiously and slowly Thomas began to take his clothes off, placing his toe in the steaming water, withdrawing again quickly. It was hot! He'd never had a hot bath before. Looking over to the fireplace he realised that the woman must have heated some of the water before pouring it in.

Mastering himself, Thomas forced himself inside the water, relaxing into it almost immediately. If baths were warm at home, he told himself, then he'd have a bath every day, no wonder everybody in this house seemed so clean.

Even after he'd scrubbed all of the dirt from his skin and washed his hair using the soup the woman had left he stayed in the bath a moment more to savour the last of its heat. Unfortunately he couldn't stay in long, Thomas hadn't realised how dirty he was before this. The water had turned a murky brown and to stay in for too much longer would undo all of his hard work as the mud fixed itself again to his skin.

Climbing out of the bath Thomas was hit by a sudden wave of cold air. What did he do now?

He was standing in the middle of someone's kitchen, naked and shivering.

With a flush of embarrassment he realised that his old clothes had been taken from the chair where he'd left them and replaced with some new ones. That meant someone had been in while he'd been washing.

But he was too cold to make a fuss about it now, so he pulled the clothes on. They were a little big for him perhaps, but after he'd rolled up the sleeves and the trouser legs it was quite a comfortable.

He opened the door of the kitchen to find the woman who had rescued him discussing something in fast French with a smartly dressed slim man who looked like he must be her husband.

They stopped when they saw him.

"The clothes" the man spoke in English with only a hint of his French accent behind the words, "do they fit?"

Thomas felt a little better now he knew it had probably been a man who had dropped the clothes off in the bathroom and not Maria or her mother.

"Y-Yes thank you," it had been so long since he'd last spoken his native language that Thomas, for one terrifying moment thought he'd forgotten it.

"Your 'orse is in the stable and your sword is safe with your money" the man assured him before Thomas could open his mouth again. "My name is Francis and this is my wife Eleanor, I understand that you 'ave already met Maria?"

Thomas nodded dumbly.

"Please stay a while and regain your strength, you've been unconscious for two days with a fever, I am glad you are looking better."

He began to lead Thomas back into the kitchen where he wife set about moving the dirty bath tub through the back door and into the garden where she could dump it.

"So tell me, 'ow does a little English boy find 'imslef in France?" He asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

As they sat down Thomas noticed a cross on the table, it was unlike any cross he'd ever seen before. Although it was the same shape, unlike the ones he'd seen in England it didn't have an image of Christ on it, it was simply a cross.

Turning his attention back to Francis he told the man everything from the beginning including his fight with the man who attacked him and the driver on the road. Thomas' voice shook suddenly as he realised he'd never even learnt the name of the kind man who had driven him almost from the west coast of France to Germany.

Francis patted him on the back, "God has protected you" he told Thomas with a warm smile, "we will see you well before you continue on your journey."

Turning back to the cross, Thomas tilted his head on one side trying to make sense of the cross. In all the books he'd read about God, law and culture he'd never come across anything like this.

"'ave you never seen a cross before?" Francis asked humorously,

"Yes, but not without Christ on before" Thomas told him, "is this a French custom?"

Francis laughed at this, brushing the cross lightly with his finger, "surely to worship God we don't need such images, does the image of a man nailed to a cross truly inspire God's wonder? No, because we all know what Christ died for and we don't need to see the weak body suffer to know it."

Thomas' eyes widened. Could people say things like that?

He'd never been told that in church.

"Does the Pope think that?" He asked, earning another splutter of laughter from Francis.

"The Pope is just a man with an 'at. God is here for all of us, 'e doesn't just communicate through a group of self-righteous priests, 'e talks to us all," Francis voice was serious as he spoke these last few words, "if you're going into Germany you'll hear more like this."

Thomas listened and didn't reply, he didn't really understand what Francis was saying.

"Here," Francis pulled a book up from the table and handed it to Thomas, "it's in French but I'm sure a smart boy like you can work it out," he grinned, going out to help his wife, leaving Thomas with the book.

Cautiously, with his heart pounding in his chest, Thomas opened the book.

At first it had been difficult to read the book on his own and had to ask Francis to help him with some of the words, but after a few days of being surrounded by French speaking chatter he was getting the hang of it.

It was an interesting book and Thomas still felt a little guilty every time he opened it, thinking about his mother and how much it would worry her to know what he was reading.

But it did have some good arguments, of course Thomas knew he couldn't turn his back on the Catholic Church, but this book at least pointed out some places where it could be improved.

Some of it just simply sounded made-up, for example the book claimed that priests kept whores and often had children with them that were given places in the church without having to work for them.

It just sounded too far fetched to be true, after all Priests and churchmen had taken vows of celibacy that they couldn't break, they'd made them in front of God.

Thomas offered to pay the family for letting him stay but they refused telling him that it was the duty of all Christians to help others in need without the desire for payment.

But still Thomas didn't want to impose for too long. He stayed as long as it took him to finish the book and then he insisted that he really should be going.

In the short amount of time he was sure that his French had much improved even though it hadn't been his initial intention to learn it.

His horse was looking much more energetic too and Francis had given Thomas a few lessons in sword fighting between chapters.

When it finally came to the time for him to leave Maria cried and clutched at him for five minuets before her mother managed to prise her away.

Francis patted his head, "you're a bright boy Thomas, you're going places,"

Thomas blushed, "I don't know about that" he told Francis bashfully,

"Non, one day I will be hearing stories about Thomas Cromwell and what he's getting up to in the world."

Bowing his head without replying Thomas scrambled onto his horse.

Unable to leave without paying anything Thomas had left four of the gold coins on his pillow this morning and hoped that the family would accept it as a good gesture rather than simply because it was the done thing.

The family had given him food and two full satchels of water before he'd left. Although he still had to stop on the road to allow his horse to eat and drink it certainly saved the money and time it took to find a pub.

Perhaps as a result it took him only two days to reach the German border. Although he knew Italy was to the south of here, after all he'd heard about Germany from Francis and his family he was curious to check out the part where these new ideas were supposedly coming from.


	3. Chapter 3

Stepping back onto the English shoreline for the first time in over two decades Thomas reminded himself to keep his sword sheathed even if someone started threatening you, he wasn't a mercenary now.

He'd seen and learnt so much while abroad. He'd listened to a young man called Luther preaching and read more books on the new evangelicalism, but the final factor that had turned him against his old religion was what he'd seen in Italy while under hire by the French.

Cardinals and Priests almost fifty sprawled out in bed with sometimes as many as three women at once.

He'd seen bribes and dealings in the church that as a mere boy he'd been unable to believe, but they were true, all of them true.

But that wasn't all he'd seen.

Evangelicals were disliked, the corrupt old-fashioned Catholics called them heretics, the hypocrites!

He'd been told stories by his friends in Germany of evangelicals in England that were burnt for their beliefs, and although he wanted nothing more than to tell others of this new wonder and light he'd found, he was smart enough to know that it was better to keep his mouth shut.

However, evidently not all church clerics were like that because that was the reason he was back. Cardinal Wolsey, the chancellor to the King had offered him a secretarial job.

Thomas knew it was a low placement but it was chance to at least be close to where the action of the country was happening.

While in Germany he'd heard about the death of Prince Arthur and later the death of King Henry VII. The old King's youngest son Henry VIII was now on the throne.

The King was still young but married to a Queen much older than himself, Thomas thought it was a little odd but the from what he'd heard, the people loved their Queen almost as much as they loved their King.

London hadn't changed much in his absence and it still looked very much the same as it had when he'd left these shores as a fourteen (or something) year old boy. Perhaps a few of the buildings looked a little more modern but the houses and the perfection of the place had not changed by his view.

Wolsey had given him an address where he would be boarding in the city, with instructions to arrive in his office in respectable dress first thing tomorrow.

Thomas wasn't actually sure what this meant, and whatever vague idea he had of 'respectable dress', he was sure he couldn't afford.

Arriving at the right address Thomas knocked twice, stepping back to wait for someone to answer the door.

He was in a nice part of the city, within a forty minuet walk from the palace. It was perhaps one of the poorer parts of the land directly within radius of the palace but Thomas liked the simplicity of the place. It reminded him a little of his old town near the edge of London in Putney, but without the shit and people dressed in sacks.

The streets were narrow and the houses were built in the fashionable style with the over hanging roofs and panelled outer walls.

A man opened the door for him, giving him a quick and suspicious look from head-to-toe. "Mr Cromwell?" He checked,

"That's right" Thomas replied with a mild and polite smile, bowing his head slightly.

The man stood aside to let him in, eyeing Thomas' sword as he passed.

"I'm your landlord while you reside here, your room is upstairs I think you'll find it has everything you need, if you're eating with me and the wife then you'll need to be back before seven."

Thomas thanked him taking the information on board. He was about to head upstairs to unpack the few personal possessions he had when the landlord continued talking.

"So which family are you from? I don't recognise the name."

Thomas stopped his progression up the stairs, fighting back a tight feeling of annoyance that was rising in his chest.

"I don't understand the question" he forced himself to say without gritting his teeth. Of course he did understand but he didn't want to have to answer, hopefully this landlord would be intelligent enough to read what he meant by that reply.

Apparently he wasn't.

"You know, who was your father, like Sir Thomas More's father was that lawyer, Sir John More," the landlord shook his head like he thought Thomas was the simple one.

Thomas allowed a frown to cross his face before replying in a serious tone, "I am the son of Walter Cromwell a Putney blacksmith," with that he continued up the stairs, leaving his landlord in stunned silence.

Wolsey had warned him of this sort of prejudice and Thomas was determined not to let it get in his way. Wolsey himself had come from a humble background, not quite as humble as Thomas' own but he was still from the trading class. Wolsey however had risen through the church, the only place where notable people had risen from low birth, it was unheard of for a commoner to rise in any other way.

Despite his ambition there was no way that Thomas was going to join the ranks of that corrupted clergy, he wouldn't even do it for the chancellorship.

The room was simple, with a single bed in one corner of the room, a chest of draws and a writing desk facing a window that looked out over the street with a small cross standing in centre place.

With a sigh Thomas grabbed the cross opening the bottom draw of his chest and stuffing it at the back.

Even if he had to be discreet about his beliefs he wasn't going to be disloyal to them.

Where the cross had been he set down a pile of the books he had brought with him from Germany and the lowlands.

He'd have to buy ink, parchment and a new quill; though perhaps Wolsey would be able to lend him some from the palace, Thomas wasn't exactly sure where to buy them in England.

His voyage had been a long one and even though it was still light in the sky Thomas fell into bed, not even bothering to undress from his travelling clothes, pausing only to balance his trusty sword against the end of his bed.

He had to be up early tomorrow and find something that would pass as 'reasonable' before going to meet Wolsey at the palace.

The next morning he was awoken by the sun shining in his eyes through the window, he'd forgotten to close the curtains last night but he supposed it was a blessing in disguise because he probably would have overslept if it wasn't for that.

Pulling himself together he stumbled sleepily downstairs to find somewhere to draw water from to wash his face.

His landlord's wife was up and making breakfast and she pointed him in the right direction, albeit with a snooty look on her face, her husband must have told her what sort of background Thomas had.

Once his face was clean he returned upstairs to search through his clothes for something to wear.

His formal clothes would have to do, a white shirt with a high collar covered by a black overshirt. This would have to do, it wasn't like he was going to be in the public eye at any time. Wolsey had probably found him a place where he could work discreetly without being seen.

He hurried back downstairs to finish his breakfast before his landlord woke up. The disdain from his wife was bad enough this early in the morning, he didn't think he could cope with any more.

Setting off at a brisk pace in the direction of the palace Thomas didn't have much time to take in the view that he had admired when he'd first come here with the Captain after leaving home. Perhaps now he'd seen so many more places, London didn't seem quite as elaborate as it had then.

But the palace did take his breath away.

It was so large that he couldn't even take it in with one look no matter how far back he stood. He wasn't even sure where he should enter, there were guards everywhere giving him suspicious looks.

"Can I help you?"

Thomas spun around, coming face-to-face with a man who looked a bit older than himself. "I'm chancellor Wolsey's new secretary..." Thomas wasn't sure exactly how to phrase the fact that he was lost already without having set a foot inside the palace grounds.

The man smiled at him, "ah yes, he said he was expecting you," the man led him straight past the guards.

Thomas noticed that they nodded their heads to the man as he passed with nothing but respect in their eyes.

The inside of the palace was perhaps the only thing more spectacular to the exterior.

The man who had helped him let him take in the sight with a knowing look in his eyes, "everyone gets that impression the first time they walk in" he told Thomas, "the first time I came in I had to sit down for a while, you're a tougher man than me."

Mentally shaking himself Thomas forced himself away from the sheer splendour of the place and followed the man down a few corridors until they reached an office.

The man held the door open for Thomas then followed him inside.

"Ah Cromwell, you've found the place then?" Wolsey looked up from a document he was filling in to motion for Thomas to sit down in the seat opposite the desk.

"I had some help" Thomas admitted, glancing back at the man who was moving towards the desk to glance through some of the finished documents.

"Well I'm not surprised, More here can't leave anybody in trouble it would infuriate his little moral compass," Wolsey laughed lightly to himself, while More only frowned, looking put out.

"Are you saying I should have left him? Then we'd all be in trouble" More pointed out fairly, shaking his head slightly with mild exasperation.

First Wolsey examined his clothing and deemed it fit to wear and then he set about introducing Thomas to his new job.

"I'll have to introduce you to the King later at court, you won't be expected to stay," Wolsey corrected himself quickly, "I mean, you can stay if you want to, it's just there's no reason for you to be there."

Thomas put up a hand to stop him, "I understand" he assured the chancellor.

Although his face stayed passive Thomas could feel the excitement inside of him. He was going to meet the King of England, he Thomas Cromwell the son of a blacksmith. No matter how much self-discipline one had it was difficult not to have some sort of quiver in your chest when faced such an honour.

Wolsey exchanged an amused look with More, they seemed to know what he was thinking even though he didn't show it.

For the morning Thomas worked through the documents that Wolsey handed him and listened with half an ear to the conversations in the office. More had left after about an hour to go and find the King, Wolsey had told him after More's exit that he was one of the King's most trusted advisers.

Most of the conversations seemed to be circulating around the King's marriage to Katherine. It appeared all was not as happy in the marriage bed as the people outside of the palace had been led to believe.

When someone mentioned the rumours of an annulment Wolsey put a stop to the conversation immediately, although Thomas couldn't help but show interest. He didn't see why the King should have to ask the Pope's permission for such a thing, one of the books he'd been reading had made the suggestion that the King as God's anointed ruler should be able to rule by God's will without the Pope.

Of course Thomas knew better than to mention this belief out loud. Wolsey was a cardinal and the way Thomas had listened to More going on about religion for the last hour he guessed that he too was an adamant catholic.

When Wolsey rose to his feet with a pile of the documents under his arms he motioned for Thomas to follow him, "Come on, I need to talk to some people at Court, you may be needed to stay for a while afterall even after your introduction to the King".

Thomas followed him, checking his hands as he went to make sure they were clean of ink.

"Just bow when he addresses you" Wolsey told him, "as long as he's in a good mood he'll receive you well."

Thomas wasn't sure exactly what this meant but he had a feeling that in this job it wouldn't take him long to find out.

When they arrived in Court the King wasn't yet there, but a whole procession of other people were. The Lords and Ladies of the court were talking and drinking, a few were in huddled corners discussing important looking things with one another, occasionally casting a look at another member of the Court.

Wolsey kept Thomas to the edge still quite close to the door.

They didn't have to wait long before an announcer entered the room, booming out above the voices of the Court, "his majesty King Henry VIII."

Immediately everybody in the room stopped talking and bowed, Thomas followed their example, not raising his head until Wolsey nudged him.

The King had been pulled to a stop by Wolsey although it looked like he was in a hurry to go and talk to someone else.

"Your majesty this is Thomas Cromwell my new secretary" Wolsey introduced. Thomas bowed as instructed but the King didn't seem very interested in him.

"Okay" the King waved at his chancellor continuing into the room in hurried perusal.

Thomas saw Henry latch onto the arm of a pretty woman in the court, it wasn't his wife and the only reason Thomas knew that was because he knew the girl. He'd once been in her father's service as a guard in France, that was Anne Boleyn, she must be the King's mistress, Thomas wondered about whether she had anything to do with the King's want of an annulment.

He followed Wolsey through the crowd, listening and remembering the conversations in case Wolsey wanted to call back on them later, as instructed he would write them down when he got back to the office.

Most of the conversations in Court seemed to be about the King's marriage and the Lady Anne Boleyn, but unlike in the office Wolsey couldn't tell the Lords to hold their tongues.

One Lord who must have heard about his birth started talking in a smug way to Wolsey in Latin, obviously assuming that Thomas wouldn't be able to understand him.

Wolsey didn't miss the gesture because he turned to Thomas with a small smile and asked, "did you get all that mister Cromwell?"

"His Lordship thinks that the King is flaunting his..." Thomas clicked his tongue for a better word than the direct translation, "..._mistress_ too publicly and that Lady Anne's sister is like the virgin Mary by comparison."

The Lord looked annoyed and narrowed his eyes at Thomas though he didn't say anything with Wolsey there.

After half an hour Wolsey dismissed him, giving him leave to finish for the day after he'd written up the conversations he'd been witness to.

It was still relatively early in the evening, still late afternoon my most counts so Thomas didn't turn back to his rented room after his work was finished.

Putney was not so far away from the city centre as it had once seemed. He'd asked Wolsey while in the office and been told it was only five miles away in a south-Westerly direction.

He didn't want to see his family again, he just wanted to see the place he'd grown up in and how it had changed. He wanted to see that something had changed that told him life had gone on after he'd left.

But it seemed that the area of Putney where he'd once lived was still very much the same as it had always been.

He didn't recognise anyone, those he had known as children were adults like himself now, and those he had known as adults were either dead or aged beyond recognition now.

Travelling towards the centre he located Mr Baxon's old office, surprised to find that it was still a doctors office with Mr Baxon's name on a panel at the front.

He didn't want to go inside and was preparing to turn when a voice called him back.

"Can I help you sir?"

Taking a short deep breath Thomas turned. He could still recognise the Mr Baxon even after all this time. It was true that he'd grown old, his hair was no longer the chestnut brown it had been but was now a thinning grey, but he had the same intelligent brown eyes that he'd had in his youth.

Making a sudden and snap decision Thomas nodded, "yes, I'm enquiring after the Cromwell family?"

Thomas thought he saw Mr Baxon's eyes widen for a fleeting moment, but it was gone so quickly Thomas knew he could have imagined it.

"The younger sister is happily married to one of the local farmers and the elder is married to my friend, a good lawyer around these parts," he hesitated, and Thomas caught him glancing right into his eyes that had remained the same ice blue as they had been when he was a child. "The father died a little while back and I am now married to the mother," Mr Baxon held his breath for a moment, watching Thomas carefully.

Thomas nodded, "thank you," he wanted to express in that thank you all that Mr Baxon's teaching had done for him, if it wasn't for him Thomas would probably be the new blacksmith by now.

They didn't exchange another word but Thomas knew he knew even if he hadn't said anything.

Glancing at the sky Thomas decided it was getting late, he should probably be getting back or his landlord would refuse to feed him.

He was walking so quickly that he didn't notice where he was going and walked headlong into somebody, knocking himself off balance and them to the ground.

The woman on the floor stared up at him with terrified eyes for a moment, taking in what must seem to her like expensive clothes and high boots that showed all the signs of someone with money. Not that this was true, Thomas didn't have that much money to spare from his earnings after paying rent and he would have even less after purchasing ink and parchment now he'd been told where to go.

"I'm sorry that was my fault," Thomas held out a hand towards her.

For a moment she looked cautious, then she tentatively took it, pulling it back again the moment she was back on her feet.

"I don't go in for that sort of thing sir" she told him, her voice trembling.

Thomas was shocked and was unable to hide it from his expression, "what sort of thing?"

Then the girl blinked at him, "Is that you Tom? I'm sure it is, I'd recognise eyes like that anywhere."

Then Thomas recognised her, Elizabeth Wykys, she'd been a friend of his sister's when they were children. Thomas remembered that her father hadn't liked her playing with the Cromwells, she was from a well-to-do clothier family that at the time had stood way above his station.

"Where have you been all this time? I heard from your sister that you'd run away to join a voyage of some sort to France!"

"That's where I've been" Thomas shrugged, not really wanting to go into details about the jobs he had performed there or about what he'd heard in Germany.

"And now your back?" She was still trying to take him in.

"Yes, I'm working for the chancellor now and..." He didn't get a chance to finish because Elizabeth's mouth had dropped open in shock,

"You're pulling my leg" she told him seriously, "how did you get a job like that?"

"I met some people while travelling" he told her truthfully, feeling a little uncomfortable now so he changed the subject quickly, "what about you, how have you been, you must be married by now?"

But Elizabeth was shaking her head, "no, I'm a widow my husband died a little while back, we didn't have any children,"

"Oh, sorry" Thomas dropped his eyes to the ground, then wished he hadn't because a rat the same size as a small cat had just scurried over his boots.

Noting the time and calculating how long it would take him to get back Thomas worked out that he'd missed dinner.

Elizabeth must have read his expression because she asked him what was wrong, so Thomas told her about his snobby landlord and how they wouldn't feed him if he got back late.

She giggled at that, "it sounds like your being treated like child" she told him, "come on, I always have plenty of food spare now I'm on my own come and join me for dinner."

Not sure quite what else to say, Thomas followed her.


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas tilted his head in an amused way as he listened to Wolsey's latest gossip about the King and Lady Anne. Over the last few months he hadn't missed the slight note of uncertainty that had crept into Wolsey's demeanour, which could only mean one thing, the King was unhappy with him and that was a dangerous situation to be in.

Wolsey smiled, putting down his work for the day and looking out of the window at the darkening sky. "How's your wife Tom? I hear you've just had another child?"  
"She's fine, and it's a girl, her name is Grace, she was going to be Elizabeth after my sister but Grace just seemed to suit her better," Thomas felt his mouth changing into one of his rare smiles as he remembered his pink fluffy new daughter tucked up in bed with his wife.

He had two other children as well, Anne, another daughter with a strong mind and burning intelligence and his son Gregory who was currently in Cambridge for his education under a tutor that Wolsey had recommended.

"What is a world without children" Wolsey nodded, "I wish you all well, but I'd recommend that you take care of your wife sickness is always around us and there are rumours of sweating sickness again," Wolsey let out a long sigh, "but I'm sure God knows what is to be done."

All of a sudden the door of the office was thrown open and the King entered his face red and a look in his eye that said he was ready to kill someone.

Both Thomas and Wolsey rose to their feet bowing quickly. Wolsey backed away a little ensuring that the desk was between him and the King, but Thomas forced himself to stand his ground.

"Wolsey have you heard the news!"

Thomas kept his eyes on the floor but he expected that the news the King had been referring to was the news that he and Wolsey had been discussing with More a little earlier.

"Yes your majesty, it would appear that the Pope is under the imprisonment of the Emperor," Wolsey's tone was impartial. Thomas knew that for More and Wolsey this capture was both good and bad, on one hand they were not supporters of the divorce and no divorce could go ahead without the annulment from the Pope, but on the other side the Pope, the head of their beloved church had been captured and imprisoned like a common prisoner of war.

Thomas had strong feelings neither way, the Pope meant nothing to him and he knew he wasn't in the firing line if the divorce didn't go ahead.

Although... An idea was steadily forming in Thomas' head, not that anybody would have known by looking at him. It was risky, but perhaps this was exactly the right atmosphere he needed to put his plans into practise.

He knew that the Boleyn family had shown sympathies to the evangelicals, so it would be easier to approach Anne and wait for her to suggest the idea to the King before Thomas himself put in the suggestion.

The King was shouting at Wolsey while Thomas stood silently by, nobody had asked him to leave or stay so he simply stayed in the standing position he'd maintained since the King had entered.

After about five minuets of this the King had calmed down slightly, he barked a final insult and Wolsey then turned to go. The King's gaze met and held Thomas' gaze for a moment, but Thomas made sure to break eye contact the moment it happened so it did not last for very long.

A slamming of the office door told them that the King had left.

Wolsey slumped back down in his chair, "you know, I'm not going to be chancellor for very much longer" he admitted, bringing hand to his head, "I'm getting old and I'm unable to put my heart into what the King wants,"

"Who is" Thomas pointed out fairly.

This made Wolsey smile and relax a little, "your right Tom but I am old and tired now, perhaps Thomas More will be able to take my place... I'm sure he'll try and get out of it but the King will force it on him..." Yawning, Wolsey went back to looking out of the window.

Thomas wasn't sure what to say to this. He personally didn't like the idea one bit that More might become the next chancellor. However good and moral everybody said he was Thomas knew it would be bad news for people like him if More ever got to such a high position.

Wolsey never burnt people, he did burn the books like the ones Thomas kept hidden in a trunk in his new house that he shared with his wife and three children, but people were safe.

More was another force to be reckoned with. While More wasn't a young man he still had a more youthful vigour when it came to dealing with those he classified as heretics.

Although More had never said anything Thomas got the impression that More suspected him of doing more than just spying on evangelical meetings for Wolsey.

Thomas didn't mind spying because he knew that no harm would come to the ones he named, Wolsey was more interested in knowing who to pray for and which new books he had to ban.

Perhaps deep down Wolsey also knew what Thomas' true beliefs were, but to his knowledge the chancellor had never mentioned them to anyone.

Thomas stood on dangerous ground if More ever got into a position of power, despite how careful he'd vowed to be when he'd returned to England, his refusal to accept papist principles had obviously turned a few heads.

His wife of course understood him.

Elizabeth was wonderful, everything that a wife should be, she had given him two wonderful daughters and a son, she accepted him as who he was but always had something to say or comment on that was above the usual gossip of most women. He couldn't have chosen a better companion to spend his life with even if he'd been offered the daughter of an Earl.

"Well I think we're probably done for the day," Wolsey clapped his hands together, though he himself didn't show any sign he was leaving soon.

Thomas nodded, glad that he could get away back to his wife and daughters.

With the increased salary that Wolsey had granted him he was now able to take a carriage back to his house rather than having to walk the dangerous route to his house. Of course the streets were safe during the day when other people were around but who knew what sorts of people roamed the streets after dark.

His house maid greeted him with a smile when he got back and told him that his wife and child were well fed but that Miss Anne was feeling lonely and left out.

So after Thomas had kissed Elizabeth and his new daughter he returned downstairs to play a game of chess with Elizabeth. She was getting better at chess and Thomas suspected that she was playing with the servants while he was out and Ralph Sadler, who'd been sent by his parents, for Thomas to watch over as the boy progressed through his political education.

Ralph was older than Anne but the two certainly seemed to get along well.

He let Anne beat him which annoyed her because she knew he had, so he agreed to read her one of her favourite passages from the Bible before bed to make up for it.

Of course he'd never read her one of his German books, if he was going to be in trouble for heresy he didn't want his family involved, but he knew that Anne was intelligent enough not to tell anyone that her father read her an English version of the Bible that he'd managed to get off a group of lollards. Technically he'd confiscated it and should have handed it to Wolsey for burning but he'd just held onto one copy himself.

The next morning he was back in the office with Wolsey and things were not going well. A commission had been set up to review the evidence for an annulment but nothing could go ahead without the Pope's say-so, and the Pope was still imprisoned by the Queen's nephew Charles.

The King was fuming around the palace.

In previous months Thomas had seen very little of the King but now he seemed to be passing him almost every day, either in the corridors or on his way out of Wolsey's office.

More wasn't happy about the situation and was doing his best to keep the King calm but it was proving very difficult, for once Thomas couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for More, Thomas would hate the job of dealing with such a temperamental King.

"How's the King?" Thomas asked More at about midday. It was the first rest either of them had managed to get. The King had gone out riding with his friends and would most likely not return until this evening when it started to get dark.

More gave him annoyed look that Thomas knew he deserved, it had just been a question to wind More up. Everybody knew that Anne was refusing to let the King see her like this was somehow his fault and it was making his temper worse than ever, somebody was going to get the axe before this divorce affair was over, both Thomas' knew this.

But rather than saying something like he'd usually have done More just rested his head against one of the walls and closed his eyes with a groan.

Thomas didn't pester him further and instead did the same move against the opposite wall. Poor Wolsey was still working and having meetings with the other members of the counsel, trying to persuade them one way or the other.

Recovering himself Thomas continued down the corridor leaving More to his own thoughts.

The Court was empty, Thomas was unused to seeing it so. Somehow all the people and the tables full of food were the furniture and without them the room was bare.

"Cromwell."

Thomas turned his head in the direction of the balcony, setting eyes on Anne Boleyn's father who began moving down the stairs to meet him.

"Lord Rochford, is their something I can do for you?" Thomas isn't sure exactly what to make of this, so stood his ground to let Boleyn say his piece.

"How is the counsel coming along?" Rochford asked, his eyes fixed on Thomas'.

Thomas had noted over his short acquaintance with this man that Rochford was one of the few people that could look him in the eye without breaking contact first.

Thomas treated him to a steady silence, but as usual nothing happened and Rochford continued to stare back.

"I'm not sure, Cardinal Wolsey is busy in a meeting with them now, but I'm sure you know that the Pope..."

"Yes, I know about the Pope" Rochford dismissed with a tone of impatience, "but you Thomas know other ways of allowing a King to divorce don't you?"

Thomas broke eye contact. This had been what he was intending to do but he was planning on discreetly approaching Mistress Anne and not her father. Rochford was a dangerous man to deal with and Thomas knew that if he gave him anything that could be turned against him if they had a falling out then it would be used to the utmost against him.

"I know of only one legal way and that is through the Pope" Thomas replied steadily, though he still did not make eye contact with Sir Thomas. He heard the older man huff, then a strong hand tightened around his wrist.

"Listen here, your not a man with the social position to deny me anything, if Wolsey fails to give the King what he wants then it's down to you, understand me?" As if to prove his point his grip became tighter, cutting off the blood circulation.

Thomas inhaled heavily through his nose to master the pain and nodded.

Sir Thomas smiled, "then we understand each other."

As Boleyn walked away Thomas cradled his wrist in his other hand, rubbing it to try and return some sort of feeling.

Whether he had really been intending to talk to Mistress Anne now didn't matter, he had to do it, Sir Thomas had given him no alternative.

A startled sound caused Thomas to turn again, but this time it had come from the door of the King's private office, and there stood Henry VIII himself.

Hurriedly Thomas bowed, perhaps coming to the Court room had not been one of his best ideas afterall.

Henry recovered from his moment's shock and now settled on starting at Thomas with confusion, "where do you work again? I recognise your face..."

"Cromwell, I work under Cardinal Wolsey," Thomas introduced himself, although technically he had already been introduced earlier today for the fourth time. Henry seemed determined to forget who he was every time they met.

"Right" Henry nodded, "How is Wolsey's committee coming along?"

Two people asking him the same question within minuets of each other, why did everybody assume that Thomas just knew.

"He's in a meeting at the moment" he told the King, then, with slight hesitation he added "we all thought your majesty was out hunting."

To his surprise the King smiled at this, "what, are you all getting up to something I don't know about? Can't imagine More, but Wolsey... Yes I can see it, though I didn't have you down for the sort..."

What particular 'sort' Henry was referring to Thomas didn't stop to think, but the embarrassed blush on his cheeks that had arisen by the very suggestion he was doing something worth hiding was not missed by the King.

"Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do. I just forgot my bow, how I managed to leave without it I don't know," and with that the King turned to go again.

Thomas waited just a moment longer to make sure that no other people were going to walk in on him and ask him questions before leaving the hall at a fast pace desperate to be back in Wolsey's office where he might get some more appropriate answers that he could have given to the two men who had approached him.

But Wolsey still wasn't back when he returned to the office. Perhaps he should just call it a day and go home, it wasn't like there was any work for him to do until Wolsey had decided which side he was on anyway.

He would go back home and find that book he'd read about the King's anointed power from God and smuggle it to Anne. She wouldn't betray him to the King because it was her only chance of helping him get a divorce and giving her the chance of marrying him herself.

"You're home early," Thomas was pleased to see his wife out of bed and moving around the kitchen. Thomas and his wife weren't used to servants doing all the work and Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder down to the kitchen when she felt restless and offer to do some work.

Thomas kissed her gently, "Wolsey didn't look like he was going to come back any time soon and I had some work to get done at home,"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"So, is his majesty still intent on getting this divorce?" She asked, as he followed her through the house to Grace's cot, it must be feeding time.

"Yes" Thomas told her, "the whole castle is in up-cry about, especially since the Pope was captured."

He stands uncomfortably while Elizabeth feeds their daughter.

"Where's Anne?" He asks, suddenly realising that his older daughter is not around the house.

"She went out with Ralph to get some items from the market for me, I just needed the two of them out of my hair for a while, they're both far too excitable."

Thomas smiled, he'd have to have a word with the two of them about keeping their debates to a minimum at least while little Grace was so young and Elizabeth was so tired.


	5. Chapter 5

Wolsey had been half right, sweating sickness had come to London, it just came a year later than expected.

It had begun with just a few deaths but it had quickly spread throughout the whole of the city and its surrounding areas.

The King had gone into panic, his lack of a son made him even more fearful for his life than usual. If he died the whole country would be thrown into anarchy without a King to rule over them, at least that would solve the divorce problem...

Thomas mentally slapped himself, it was treason to imagine the King dead and he shouldn't be doing it. Even if the King couldn't read his thoughts, the great omniscient and omnipotent God would.

Hampton Court was in the process of being closed down while the disease lingered. The King was planning on fleeing to Wales with only a few of his most trusted servants and had already issued orders for Princess Mary and her mother to be moved to safer areas as well.

Wolsey would remain behind to maintain London as much as he could in the King's absence but he would be alone, he'd insisted that Thomas stay at home as well.

"The less people coming in an out of the palace the less chance of contagion" he'd pointed out when Thomas had protested, "and your place is with your family at a time like this."

Before he left Wolsey had sent him to do one more job for him.

"Can you go and fetch the documents from the King's chambers, he should still be there but keep your distance and don't approach him" Wolsey instructed, "bring them back here then you can go home."

Thomas left Wolsey's office and began working his way through the empty halls of Hampton Court. Occasionally he saw servant or two, but there was no sign of any nobility, they must have already left.

Anne Boleyn had been sent to her family house out in the country to keep her safe. Henry was alone, at least he was without female companionship for perhaps the first time in his life.

Finding his way to the King's chambers Thomas knocked and waited on the other side before he got an answer.

"Who is it?" Came a muffled voice from behind the door.

Thomas tried to open the door and found a weight against it.

"Who is it?" The voice repeated.

"Thomas Cromwell, Cardinal Wolsey sent me to collect the documents before you left." With his answer the weight against the door shifted, Thomas cautiously pushed it open.

The King was standing at the opposite end of the room from him, the documents were on the table waiting for him.

Without wanting to panic or infuriate the King Thomas made his way swiftly to the table, intending to go immediately, but when he caught sight of the documents he saw that wouldn't be possible.

"Your majesty hasn't signed some of these," he looked back at the King, placing the documents back down and shuffling through them, "have you read these ones?"

By the look on Henry's face Thomas guessed that he hadn't. Where did they go from here?

The King didn't move and neither did Thomas.

Finally the King stretched out his neck massaging his shoulder blade with his fingers, "read them to me Cromwell, or at least tell me the gist and I'll sign them if I agree."

Sitting down at the table Thomas began to read a summarised version of the documents to the King. If the King said yes then Thomas pushed them across the long oak table towards him where Henry would step forwards, sign quickly, push back and then retreat again. If he said no then Thomas would shift the document to the bottom of the pile.

It was slightly uncomfortable to be reading while the King was looking at you so intently.

When Thomas did look up from one of the documents and caught the King's eye the full power of that grey-eyed look made Thomas turn his head away quickly, hiding his face with another document, unable to believe that his face kept heating up every time he met the King's eyes.

Finishing the last document Thomas pushed it across the table to the King.

Henry reached down and signed the paper, but his eyes kept flicking up at Thomas, with a look that Thomas wasn't sure if he could place which was strange, usually he was pretty good at reading people's facial expressions.

"Have you had any signs of the sickness?" The King asked suddenly, the document in his hand. He hadn't made any motion of pushing it back across the table, but he had shifted around the table so he was standing a little closer.

"No your majesty" Thomas replied truthfully, "My work has kept me here the last few days and I haven't been into the city since the sickness started."

The King approached Thomas slowly, placing the document himself on top of the pile so he was leaning on the table right in front of Thomas.

Beginning to feel nervous Thomas rose to his feet, "I should be going, Wolsey will be needing this," he smiled awkwardly turning to go, but was prevented from doing so by the King. One of the King's hands was resting on the table, the other on Thomas' chair's armrest.

Feeling his heart pounding in his chest Thomas forced himself to look at the King.

"Anne is sick" Henry told him, bowing his own head with fear and anger, "she might die... I can't go to her, my own life is too precious..." Henry's eyes fixed on Thomas' with even more ferocity, the King's mere look was enough to make Thomas flinch, he'd seen that look before, it was like the one his father had always given him when Thomas was due a beating.

Swallowing, Thomas told himself that if the King was going to hit him he'd just have to take it like a man.

But what happened next shocked him dumb.

The King's mouth was on his, teeth fixing around Thomas' lower lip and biting down hard until the metallic taste of blood filled Thomas' mouth. The King took advantage of Thomas' gasp of pain to press his tongue into the unknown cavern of Thomas' mouth, suppressing Thomas' own tongue until the other man was practically gagging.

Thomas' whole body was frozen to the spot, he couldn't even tremble.

What was going on?

The King's hand in his hair was pulling painfully hard, tilting his head back into a more compromising position.

When the King pulled back finally all Thomas could think to do was refill his lungs with the air they were screaming for. He steadied himself against the table, his eyes unable to leave the King's face.

Henry had a trickle of blood on his own lips that he'd just swiped his tongue over, Thomas' blood.

Now feeling was returning to his mouth he could feel the warm flow of blood running from his lips to his chin.

With an indifferent look Henry turned his back and began walking back to the bedroom part of his chambers behind the curtain.

Thomas knew he'd been dismissed.

The trembling suddenly finding his limbs Thomas scooped up the documents in his arms and fled the room. He didn't want to think about what had just happened, he would forget it, the King would no doubt act like it had never happened so Thomas would too.

With the corridors empty Thomas felt less undignified running back through the halls of Hampton to Wolsey's office.

"My God Tom what happened to you!" Wolsey was on his feet the moment Thomas entered, his eyes wide.

Thomas remembered his lip, in all that had happened that minor detail had slipped his mind.

"I..." Thomas wasn't sure what to say so he just put the documents down on Wolsey's desk and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, grateful that it was black. A little blood had dripped onto his white undershirt but it wasn't enough for anybody to notice without inspecting him too closely.

His carriage didn't arrive and so Thomas was forced to walk home through the disease ridden streets. He held his sleeve over his mouth and nose and he walked hoping it would do some good to prevent the sickness from getting into his system.

All the houses he passed had some sort of mark on the door that signified the sweating sickness had infested their households.

Rounding the corner to his own house Thomas froze, the hand that had been covering his face fell down limp by his side. The mark was on his door too.

Finding himself running towards the door Thomas threw it open.

"Elizabeth, Anne are you okay?" He yelled through from the front door, pulling himself into the house and throwing the door shut behind him, its slam echoing through the house, "Ralph?"

"Mister Cromwell," Ralph appeared in the doorway, looking pale but perfectly healthy, "Thank goodness your home..."

"Where are the others? Is Elizabeth all right? What about my daughters? Have we had bad news from Gregory? Gregory's okay isn't he?"

Ralph blinked taking in all of Thomas' questions, "one of the servants has just died, the others are okay at the moment."

"At the moment" Thomas echoed, fear gripping him like a hook around his heart.

Ralph led him to the master bedroom where Anne, Grace and Elizabeth were huddled on the bed. Anne looked terrified and Grace was crying, Elizabeth was trying to look brave but Thomas could see the suppressed fear in her eyes.

He hurried towards them, clutching at Elizabeth's hand and letting Anne hide her head in his chest. Using his free arm Thomas extended it to Ralph. He'd taken care of that boy since he was seven, Ralph was as much a part of the family as any of them.

Although the boy was now fifteen he still hurried to Thomas' side and rested a comforting hand on Anne's shoulder looking a lot more brave than he felt.

One of the servants brought them dinner, leaving it by the door and giving them the news that another one of the maids had just been taken ill.

"Are we going to die?" Anne asked, her voice trembling,

Thomas didn't say anything he just held her closer.

Then his wife looked up at him, her eyes flicking from his lip to the blood drops just visible below his collar.

"What happened to your lip?"

Thomas flinched as the memory was forced back on him.

"Nothing, an accident at the palace that's all, it was pretty hectic everybody's trying to get out, Wolsey is holding down the fort as a sort of regent while everybody else is away."

How Thomas wished that he had some fancy country house that he and his family could escape to while the sweating sickness was raging, he could keep them safe out in the country where the air was clear.

As it was he was in the middle of London with a dead maid and a dying one downstairs.

Elizabeth raised her head and kissed the cut on his lip gently, a frown line appearing on her forehead when Thomas flinched, twitching his head back slightly.

They all slept in the master bed together that night, but Thomas knew that they couldn't make a habit of it, if one of them was infected it was better to isolate them from the others.

The next morning everybody still seemed fine.

Thomas sent Anne, Grace and Ralph back to their own rooms and promised to check on them every hour.

A week into their isolation Thomas received a letter from Wolsey. It was odd being in a time where it took several days for a letter travel half an hour.

Thomas brought a hand to his mouth as he read it, dropping down onto his bed and handing the letter to Elizabeth to read.

"Wolsey is sick?" She looked at him, "and at his age too..."

Thomas felt a lump rising in his throat, "he'll make it, he's a tougher old man than he looks," Thomas prayed and hoped to God that he was right.

Thomas and Elizabeth were woken that night by screaming wails from Grace's room.

The year old girl was sweating all over, her body pink and blotchy. Grace's eyes were closed and her screams and sobbing were quieting to gasping splutters.

"Be at peace my darling," Elizabeth dashed to her daughter's bedside placing a hand on her forehead, "save your energy."

Thomas stood in the doorway, what could he do?

Elizabeth stayed by Grace's side while Thomas went to check on Ralph and Anne. The other two were fine though Anne almost fainted when he told her the news about her sister. Thomas had to support her and lead her to bed and tuck her in, was it just him or did Anne's skin seem just a little more damp and hot than usual.

Grace died before morning and by daybreak Anne was also sweating all over, she didn't look as bad as her sister which Thomas hoped was a promising sign. Anne was a strong girl, she'd pull through this, she had to pull through this.

Before Anne's condition could be confirmed Elizabeth was in her bed as well, trembling and shaking.

Thomas had to balance his attention between his wife's bedside and his daughter's.

Ralph wanted to see Anne but Thomas wouldn't allow it, he didn't want anybody else to risk infection. He'd stopped going to see Ralph himself just in case he was contagious, he and Ralph had simply taken to knocks at the door. If the one on the other end of the door was okay then they'd knock back.

Anne strength seemed to be returning but Elizabeth was being drained by the hour.

"Thomas..." She let out a painful gasp, Thomas clutched at her hand as if he could will his own life into her. "Your lip I just need to know..." Her breath became more rigid, "was it another woman?"

Thomas looked her right in the eye and shook his head, "no." He wasn't lying technically, and what had happened hadn't exactly been voluntary on his part.

Elizabeth was going to die and the last thing Thomas wanted was for her to die with his troubles on her mind.

Elizabeth died within the hour, leaving only Anne to worry about.

Grace and Elizabeth were taken away quickly to be buried by the two servants that were still on their feet.

Anne's condition had deteriorated again, she was bedridden and breathing heavily into her pillows, shivering like she was too cold though she was boiling to touch.

Thomas hadn't told her about her mother's death, if she got better he would wait until then and if... if she got worse then it didn't matter, at least the three of them would all be together.

He fell asleep by Anne's bedside, she was dead when he woke up.

Thomas returned that night to his bed, resting his hand on the empty side where his wife had laid beside him just the other night.

Turning his head into the sheets Thomas let himself do something he hadn't done since he was a child in Putney, he cried into the covers, muffling his sobs in case Ralph or the one surviving servant overheard.

His wife and his two beautiful daughters, how could this have happened? Why had God taken all three of them from him?

Gregory, Gregory had to be okay.

Thomas promise to himself that he would write to his son when all this was over, he'd call him down from Cambridge, just for a short while. Of course he still had Ralph who answered with knocks every time Thomas came to check on him but his own kin... He wondered how his sisters and their children were doing.

He'd still not returned to see them and it was unlikely they'd heard of him in the minor position he held at court. Perhaps they thought he had died while abroad, fighting in some war or of a foreign disease, unless of course Mr Baxon had told them about their meeting. He wasn't sure which one his preferred.

But there were rumours that the sickness was declining and that some of the Lords and Earls were returning to their town houses in London.

Thomas wondered if Anne and Wolsey had survived the epidemic? What about More and the King?

No, the King couldn't be dead, the whole country would have heard if that had happened.

There were only three people left in the Cromwell household, one of the scullery maids, Ralph and himself.

He'd told Ralph to write a letter to his parents and tell them that he was okay while he wrote to Gregory. Thomas took the letters with him on his way to Hampton to give to one of the King's messengers to be sure they reached their destination in good time.

A few others had flocked back to court, Thomas hadn't noticed the King or Anne among them, though he did bump into More.

Despite his large number of children More hadn't lost a single family member, only two servants. If Thomas was still the boy he'd been in Putney he might have hit More just because of his dammed luck.

In fact he was contemplating it, but Wolsey's sudden appearance made him forget his anger.

"You recovered" Thomas let out a sigh of relief, "how is the King and Mistress Anne?"

"They're both fine" Wolsey told him with a smile, "they're spending another few days in the country just to be safe and then they're returning back to court." Wolsey hesitated then asked, "how did your household fair?"

Thomas clenched his fist, he'd rather have not revealed what had happened in his family to More but he swallowed back his pride.

"I lost my daughters and my wife and all but one servant" he admitted, a detectable choking sound in his voice that he couldn't suppress.

More looked truly sorry as he placed a gentle hand on Thomas' shoulder, "I'm sorry for your loss, truly I am, I will pray for their souls."

Again Thomas got the urge to hit him. Of course, More thought that his family were in purgatory. Well, if Thomas More could find evidence in the Bible where it mentioned purgatory then he'd be happy to go along with it.

They were in heaven, if Thomas closed his eyes he could imagine the three of them in a pasture of green having a picnic on the grass, Anne had always wanted to have a picnic in the countryside somewhere.

Thomas shook More's hand of his shoulder and stormed to his desk where he sat down and began shifting through the work he had to catch up on.

He worked through the night with Wolsey, there wasn't any point in going home, Elizabeth wouldn't be there to greet him like she always had been in the past, and his desk seemed like as good-a-place as any to rest his head, it was less lonely than sleeping in a double bed by himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Wolsey's time had come, Thomas heard from More that Wolsey's house and all his possessions had been confiscated by the King. Although technically Wolsey was still chancellor at the moment Thomas had heard the rumours that Henry was trying to persuade More to take the position.

Although More hadn't spoken to him about it, Thomas was pretty sure that he'd already been asked several times and turned the position down.

But Thomas had managed to get that book to Anne, she'd been a little surprised to receive it from him but already Thomas had heard rumours that the King was making statements in private that tied in with Lutheran beliefs.

Initially Thomas had meant to talk to the King himself around now, but after the incident that had happened in during the sweating sickness outbreak he'd been avoiding the King unless absolutely necessary.

On the rare occasion he did see the King he noted, just as he'd suspected, that the King didn't register anything that had happened that evening. Knowing his majesty he'd forgotten who Thomas was again or something like that.

Although... Thomas couldn't help but remember how the King had bitten him, did the King treat all the people he kissed like that? Had it perhaps just been an outbreak of violent anger like he'd gotten from his father? That idea was easier to accept and explained why the King didn't seem to think much of what had happened.

He would have to talk to the King eventually, just in case Anne wasn't persuading him enough. Everybody knew the King was besotted, but to break with the Catholic Church was something no English monarch had ever done and perhaps even the condition of being besotted wouldn't be enough.

At the other side of Hampton Court Henry brushed his finger gently along Anne's side. They were resting on his bed, still fully clothed, her head resting on his lap.

He had not had sex in months, he loved Anne he really did, but if he couldn't have his way with her soon he would have to find other ways, and relieving himself into the basin did not count.

Wolsey had been delaying things, of course he had, now Anne's family had told him that it was so clear. More would make a better chancellor, he appealed to Henry's intellectual side without getting in the way of all of his plans, the perfect chancellor. But why wouldn't he accept the position? If Henry had asked anybody else in the palace, and he knew Norfolk and Brandon wanted it, they would have jumped at the chance to accept the position, but not Thomas More, no, he had a conscience he had to serve.

A knock on his chamber door caused him to lift his hand, though his finger continued to run along the smooth figure of his hopefully, soon-to-be wife.

He shifted her off him gently and climbed out of bed to tell whoever it was to go away.

He parted the curtain then stopped short. It was that Cromwell again with a new document for him to sign rolled under his arm.

Cromwell bowed as Henry entered, performing the strange and graceful movement as he spread his arms wide as he knelt slightly on one knee. Henry had to admit he liked this sort of bowing, it was far more interesting that the stiff knees together one that everybody else used.

Cromwell just reminded him of how important it was that he marry Anne quickly. Something must be affecting his head, because every time he caught sight of the dark haired slim man he wanted to grab him like he'd managed to prevent himself from doing in early Summer. But he had kissed him, God forgive his sin, and he was grateful that Cromwell hadn't brought it up.

No doubt Cromwell had forgotten about it anyway, Henry had been told this man was from low-stock, and everybody knew that most people from low-stock were simple folk who didn't even know how old they were, so it was unlikely he could even remember that far back.

"Majesty, this document it's about the tax increase." Henry watched Cromwell place the document down on the table in front of him and withdraw to give him space to sign it.

Flicking his signature across the bottom Henry waved the sheet back, glancing over his shoulder where Anne was waiting for him.

But Cromwell seemed to be hesitating.

"What is it Cromwell?" Henry sighed, partially interested that such a low man actually had something to tell him and party infuriated that the man he wanted to be around the least was still here.

"Your majesty" Cromwell began carefully, "I've been putting a lot of thought to your majesty's predicament concerning the annulment with Queen Katherine."

"You have?" Henry had to admit he was a little taken aback.

Anne had given him a book to read a little while ago about the Lutheran belief that a King was the master of his own country and not the Pope, afterall Kings were mentioned in the Bible, Popes weren't, but it was a frightening idea, he knew More would faint if he ever suggested it to him.

But he might as well hear Cromwell's suggestion too.

"Has your majesty ever considered dissolving the marriage himself?"

This was it, both men knew they'd just stepped onto ice that they couldn't back off from.

Perhaps Cromwell wasn't as stupid as the people at Court had led him to be.

The King felt a flurry of excitement when he met Cromwell's eyes so he quickly turned them away again. This was desperate he reminded himself, especially when another man was giving him stirrings like this, surely this was God telling him to press ahead with the divorce and if he had God's blessing surely that was all he needed.

"I have considered it" Henry smiled, looking for some fear in Cromwell's face of the danger that he'd just put himself in, there was none that Henry could detect. "Cromwell, I have a job for you."

Cromwell waited for Henry to continue, standing still with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I want another committee set up, this one is to be secret and you will head it, look into the details of this theory of ours,"

Cromwell bowed his head, "majesty."

Dismissing him quickly Henry turned his attention back to Anne who had been listening to every word he and Cromwell has shared.

"I wouldn't trust Cromwell so much if I were you" Anne sighed, rolling over on the bed and propping herself up on her hands to look at him, "father says that there's something he doesn't trust about him..."

Henry laughed, leaning down to kiss her, "he's only Wolsey's secretary or something, he's just going to help us speed up this divorce and you want that right?"

Now Anne was all smiles and grins as she kissed him back, "I want it with all my heart."

Thomas couldn't keep the victorious grin of his face as he strolled back though Hampton Court to Wolsey's office. He'd done it, the King was actually contemplating breaking off the relationship with the church, okay, perhaps he wasn't doing it for the right reasons but Thomas didn't have the patience to wait around for people to come to their senses.

Of course he couldn't get too excited yet, first he had to prove to the King that evangelicalism would be more effective at helping him than the papist bishop in Rome.

"Thomas."

Thomas skidded to a halt, he'd just come face-to-face with More.

More was shaking his head and frowning, "Thomas can I have a word in my office?"

Masking the emotion on his face Thomas nodded, following More to his office that was a little further down the hall than Wolsey's.

More offered him a glass of something and instructed that he take a seat, this could only be bad news.

"I've received some information about you Thomas,"

"What sort of information?" Thomas knew what More had probably managed to finally confirm but he was going to make the other man say it.

"A suggestion that perhaps you aren't just spying in those Lutheran bars you're actually agreeing with it,"

"Who gave you this information?" Thomas stayed calm knowing that unless the evidence was hard then he could always deny it.

A frown line appeared in More's forehead, "I'm just warning you, don't get wrapped up in this, if you need someone to talk to I'm here,"

"I'll keep it in mind" Thomas smiled back, laughing silently at More inside his head. Who did More think he was? A Priest? His mother?

Rising to his feet Thomas didn't even wait till he was dismissed. He had a job to do, a job given to him by the King and even the humanist Thomas More wasn't going to stop him now.

If he succeeded in this task, perhaps he wouldn't end up stuck under the increasingly unpopular Wolsey forever. Now he had nothing else to live for outside of work he would put all his attention and love into his job, there was nothing else in his life any more outside of that.

Christmas was fast approaching and the palace was already preparing for the feast that would take place on Christmas Eve. Thomas wondered whether it would be Queen Katherine or Mistress Anne who sat in the first lady's place beside the King. Nobody could really tell these days, the two seemed to switch places as easily and priests swapped their vows.

He'd had a little luck on the task the King had set for him and delivered several papers personally to the King, but it appeared that he majesty still needed a final push to make the break from Rome.

The Pope had been released a while ago but he was not in favour of the King's annulment, something that he made very clear, this answer had not pleased the King.

Something was stirring in England and it was something that would not go away until the King either left Anne or divorced his wife.

Wolsey had been removed from his house in York and banished from the court but he had sent Thomas in his place to listen in on the goings on in Court over the holidays.

According to Wolsey people were always more likely to open up about any plots they were thinking up around Christmas, it would also be a good time to appeal to the King's better nature and request forgiveness for the cardinal.

Although there was still another night to go before Christmas Eve the King was throwing orders at everybody in the palace whatever their position or hired occupation.

"Charles go and check on the kitchens! Anne go and pick out our clothes for tomorrow, I want us to match, Cromwell get that band organised, I want them perfect by tomorrow evening or I'll have them all made a head shorter!"

Everybody was busy and stress levels were running high. Anne and the King got into an argument when he tried to send Anne down to see where Brandon had gotten to in the kitchens. She'd replied that he was probably shagging some wench and that kitchens were for servants or horny men.

Thomas was sent instead and the King stormed back to his chambers to make sure all the royal gifts were properly labelled.

He found, or at least heard Charles Brandon in exactly the position that Anne had described so he checked on the cooking himself. Everything seemed to be fine, according to the head kitchen maid the King had caught and killed the meat dishes himself this year.

Thomas had to admit they were pretty fine and large catches, although he doubted that the swan had been too difficult to corner. The King had broken tradition slightly by handing a large stag to the kitchen to be served with the swan, but he was the King and he could do whatever he liked.

Returning back to the hall Thomas found it empty. The musicians must have gone elsewhere to practise, the stage had been set up and the tables around the hall were laid.

He might as well tell the King that the work was going fine in the kitchens, then he could return to making sure all his files were in order before taking tomorrow off to enjoy himself at court.

Moving swiftly through to door to the King's private viewing room Thomas continued through the halls till he reached the King's chamber.

He knocked, but there was no answer.

Puzzled, he tried knocking again, but again there was no answer.

Hesitantly Thomas reached out his hand and turned the handle, letting the door swing wide open in front of him.

Immediately he wished he'd just walked away and left it.

The King had a naked Anne Boleyn straddling his lap, her hand resting over his still covered crotch.

Both partners froze their eyes shooting at Thomas who could only stammer an apology and lash out a hand to close the door quickly, lowering his eyes to the ground to avoid seeing more than he already had.

"Wait!" The King growled. Thomas didn't move a muscle. He had been terrified only four times since childhood and the King had now caused two of them.

He was a hardened soldier he reminded himself, he was dealing with a King with little-to-no battle experience, he was the more dangerous man surely? But Thomas knew without having to think too hard about it that he was wrong.

Thomas had never before met anybody as dangerous as King Henry VIII.

"You filthy knave!" Anne screamed at him while Thomas still kept his eyes fixed to the floor. A rustling sound told him that she was pulling her clothes on again as quickly as possible.

In his mind's eye Thomas could see her giving the King a look urging him with silent request, _have him locked away, cut his head off, do you not care about my honour?_

"Leave us Anne" the King's voice was cool, so cold that Thomas almost lifted his head again just out of the curiosity to know what the King's expression looked like.

"But..." Anne began to protest, then she let out a huff and drifted past Thomas, reaching out her hand and slapping the side of his face as she went past.

Thomas was alone with the King.

"Close the door" the King instructed.

Forcing himself to take control of his stiff muscles Thomas did as instructed, wishing with all his might that he was on the other side.

"Do you know what you've just prevented?" An arm pressed itself alongside Thomas' head and the King's body close to his pinned him to the door.

Thomas opened his mouth but no words came out. He knew now he'd just interrupted an early Christmas present from Anne to the King.

The flicker in Thomas' eyes seemed to tell the King that he understood, but still he did not move. His other hand came up to grasp Thomas' chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning Thomas' head slowly from side-to-side.

"Now, what to do with you. Should I execute you?"

Thomas' breath hitched in his throat, this intimacy was one that he'd believed would never occur again. What was the King doing?

Henry smiled as Thomas trembled beneath him, the clerk still wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Or..." Henry let the word play along his tongue, ignoring the part of his brain that was yelling at him to stop.

Thomas darted a nervous tongue over his lips, Henry watched the movement finding the urge under his clothes becoming stronger.

Despite the intelligence Henry had seen in the man he now had fixed against his door he could see that Thomas still hadn't worked out what he was about to do, perhaps the low-born really did have terrible memory-spans.

Tilting Thomas' head up he forced their lips together, moving his body against the other man's so that he was truly trapped. This time he held back from biting, though he made sure to do as much damage to Thomas' lips as his mouth on its own could manage.

Just like last time, Thomas froze neither getting involved in what was happening to him or denying the King what he wanted, that was typically Thomas Cromwell.

But a kiss this time wasn't enough. It was Thomas' fault that he'd been denied tonight what he'd waited so long for and so Thomas would make up for his mistake.

Henry couldn't pretend that he had a knowledge of the male body of any other than his own, but still his hand ran smoothly down to Thomas' collar pulling it down to reveal the pale and suddenly very exposed neck.

Pulling back from the kiss he began trailing his tongue and teeth over the pale flesh, leaving marks as he went that glowed brightly in contrast to the skin they'd been planted on.

Finding the collar bone Henry spent slightly longer trailing his tongue over the length of it. He could remember one of his mistresses doing this for him once and just as he'd hoped Thomas reacted in the same way he had.

A soft moan escaped the man's lips, but it was silenced quickly by Thomas biting down on his own lip. He was free to turn his head away now that the King's hand was busy holding his collar.

Withdrawing for a moment, Henry let himself admire the evidence of what his power could achieve.

One of the most stoic men at court, with emotions that never seemed to be out of his control, the man who bended to no other's will was now a shivering mess under his touch. Thomas not only allured him, he also reminded him of his birthright as King and the overwhelming strength he held above all other men.

Mistresses and wives seemed far too set on matching his power with their own, but here was someone who only challenged him where he liked to be challenged and didn't argue when he didn't want to be argued with.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" Henry held his mouth close against Thomas' ear, grinning when he reacted by closing his eyes tightly and deepening the hold his teeth had on his lower lip. So, despite the King's best efforts to avoid it Thomas' lip was dropping with steady beads of blood.

Dropping his hand lower down, the king brushed against the place where Thomas' own privacy was hidden.

A sharp gasp escaped from Thomas, his mouth opening, releasing it from the pain inflicted by his teeth, but he still would not face him.

"Do you consent?"

Henry had no choice now if Thomas' answer was silent or in the negative, even he wasn't going to trample over a law as important as this one. This was the biggest challenge of Thomas' loyalties, would he put aside everything even the small virtue he had left just to please him?

Thomas' mouth closed again, opened, then closed.

Henry watched him take a gulping breath, a quiet strangled sound coming from his throat as tears began to stream out of his closed eyes.

He nodded, inhaling deeply through his nose as if urging himself to be brave.

Thomas' tears and fear had brought a tight enclosed feeling around Henry's heart and he didn't like it.

With a growl of anger he pulling Thomas from the door, slamming him against a wall instead, there was less chance of any noise being heard that way.

He moved quickly before the guilt in his chest overpowered him. He didn't stop to look down as Thomas' breeches dropped, too busy with the process of letting his own pounding member out into the cool air.

As the cold touched it he rammed against Thomas, pressing into his tight entrance.

Henry had to clamp a hand fast around Thomas' mouth to stop him crying out in pain. He hadn't expected it to be so tight. Fingers, he'd sometimes used fingers with his mistresses perhaps he should have done the same this time, but it was too late now, he could only press on.

With a grunt he managed to thrust a little deeper. Under his hand he could feel the scream that was fighting to be heard.

Thomas had forgotten about maintaining a lack of response, though his eyes were still tightly closed. Now both his hands were gripping at Henry's black fur coat one of them resting just below his heart which was beating faster by the second.

He thrusted again, trying to ignore the frantic breaths against his hand, until he moved in deep enough to brush against a particular point.

Thomas' eyes opened, shining with tears but there was something else to, it looked like surprise and pleasure. The breathing against Henry's hand now felt more like a moan than a scream.

Slowly he removed his hand and thrusted again in the same spot, this time Thomas was unable to suppress any aspect of his moan.

Encouraged by the lessening guilt in his heart Henry began to move faster as Thomas pressed his head against his chest still moaning and gasping but managing to muffle them in the fur of the coat so nobody would hear and come running.

The effort of sex was much more exhausting in territory he wasn't familiar with but it was exhilarating too.

Pulling Thomas back to face him with a slight yank on his hair he drew their lips together as he released inside of him.

Pulling up his breaches again, Henry was surprised to find them stained white. He looked down at Thomas, who's head was still buried in his chest, had Thomas been aroused by this too?

Then a hoarse quiet voice spoke, "is there much blood?"

Henry's eyes widened as he moved Thomas away from his chest gently, looking down to see blood between the man's thighs.

A virgin bleeds during sex, every man knows that but where males were concerned... Who knew? Perhaps this was the punishment from God for doing something so sinful.

With a tremble Thomas stumbled, forcing Henry to catch him like a maid.

He hadn't thought this far ahead. What did he do now?

Thomas could hardly stand so he couldn't send him away, but he couldn't stay here either and be discovered.

A flash of genius hit him suddenly on the back of the head.

Wolsey's Hampton Court rooms were free and they weren't too far from his own chambers, he could take Thomas there.

Leaning down he pulled up Thomas' breaches and fastened them, hoping they wouldn't be stained permanently by the red that was seeping though.

Wrapping Thomas' arm around his shoulders he half supported and half dragged the man from his own chambers down the hall to Wolsey's.

Technically Thomas had come in Wolsey's place so it was only natural he should also take his rooms.

Reaching the rooms Henry located the bed and helped Thomas into it. Neither of them were able to make eye contact.

Henry prayed to God that Thomas and his evangelical theories were right and the King had the same power as a Pope so he could annul this great sin on both his and Thomas' behalf.

With final look back over his shoulder where his partner of the night was drifting into an uneasy sleep Henry let out a long sigh and left the room.

Although he was still riddled with guilt his body felt lighter than it had done in a long time.

He recounted the memories of Thomas' clear blue eyes glistening with the tears that he'd been trying so hard to fight, his moans and gasps, and the feeling of their bodies pressed together. If this was sin, perhaps it had been worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

It was Katherine who returned to take her place beside the King for the Christmas Eve meal, though Anne was not sitting too far away.

The young princess Mary sat on her father's other side looking excitedly around at all the dancing and feasting, pointing to people every now and then and asking her father who they were.

Thomas observed from one of the tables closer to the door where some other clerks who had been invited were eating, one of them was a man called Robert Aske who he fell easily into conversation with. Like himself, Robert was of low birth, he was the son of a butcher and had previously worked for Thomas More. But the news was More had accepted the position of chancellor and that meant Robert would be moved to some other part of the palace.

Reaching for his glass Thomas flinched slightly.

He'd woken up this morning in Wolsey's old bed from his rooms in court, his legs had been encased in dried blood and his hips hurt like a French prostitute's. It hadn't taken him long to remember what had happened last night, the very thought almost made him turn over and go back to sleep.

But he forced himself to rise and wash, ignoring the numbing pain.

He was still confused, and Thomas Cromwell was not somebody who was easily confused. He didn't understand what the King was doing and why he was doing it to Thomas. This had become more than a sudden violent kiss and Thomas wasn't sure he wanted to speculate where it was going.

"So are you still Wolsey's man?" Robert asks him, digging into a large chunk of meat.

Thomas smiles knowingly to himself, "perhaps, but I think my fortunes may be changing soon."

Robert grins back enquiringly, but Thomas continues eating.

If Robert reacted badly to what he told him about the King's dealings with evangelicalism there could be an outcry, the King would then deny it and Thomas would be burnt. It was better to play it safe for now, although if he succeeded in giving the King the advise he needed then he doubted he'd have reason to be silent any longer.

Queen Katherine clearly wasn't too happy about Anne being at court still but she was pulling a wide dutiful smile, grateful just to be back with her husband and daughter.

The King was looking for cheerful despite his wife and mistress shooting daggers at each other.

"Why do you think the King's looking so cheerful?" Robert wondered aloud, "I wouldn't be if I was in a situation like that, women were sent to be the damnation of men I'm sure of it."

"It's Christmas" Thomas replied flatly, keeping his eyes on his plate as the King looked in their direction, "who wouldn't be cheerful at Christmas?"

"A woman" Robert smirked, patting Thomas' on the back, sending an accelerated ripple of pain through his fragile body, but he managed to hide it and nod back and smile.

A few of the women and men had finished eating and were now beginning to move onto the dance floor to grab the best positions before the music started.

Thomas prayed that the musicians gave a brilliant performance because despite the King's good mood he knew that could change in one wrong note.

When the King himself had finished eating he led his wife out onto the dance floor into the centre of the hall. Everybody cheered as they took their place, the Queen blushed happily, but the King's eyes were already drifting towards Anne who was watching him intently with a flirtatious flutter of her eyelashes.

As the plates and tables were cleaned away and everybody got up to dance or talk Thomas let himself drift into a shadowed corner to watch and observe.

He was here on Wolsey's behalf even if the King had given him another job to do, and no doubt his appearance and Wolsey's absence would have been noticed. Thomas was the most notable member in court by now and he was almost as disliked as his master, Wolsey was the most unpopular man at court and there were no end of rumours and jokes about him being fired (In both senses of the word) around.

Thomas had a blessing, as well as being highly noticeable he could also fade into the background and move unseen through court listening into everybody's conversations.

Wiltshire and Norfolk were talking in hushed tones in French about Queen Katharine's presence in Court and if that meant that the King had forgiven her. If he had been so inclined Thomas would have pointed out that it was obvious to any idiot that the King had all his attention still on Anne as he danced with his wife.

Moving on Thomas found Brandon who was dancing with a giggling young girl that he didn't recognise. The odds were that he wouldn't marry her and her name would end up slandered so it wasn't worth knowing it.

Wolsey was in a few conversations but they were mostly between the younger men and were mostly in the form of jokes and stories rather than plotting.

The first dance had finished. Wiltshire and Norfolk stopped talking to applaud the audience with the rest of the crowd and Brandon disappeared off behind a curtain with the girl.

The King led his wife back to her throne and went to ask Anne to dance, Wiltshire and Norfolk were looking less uncomfortable now.

Glancing around the hall again to decide who to listen in on next Thomas stopped, Katharine's eyes were fixed on him, narrowed slightly, although he regal appearance hadn't changed.

Turning away quickly Thomas paled, was she just glaring at him because she knew he worked with Wolsey? Did she know about the committee he was meant to be setting up? Or even worse... Did she know what had happened last night?

It was impossible, it must be the first one, the King would never have told her about the others.

Deciding she was just glaring at him on principle Thomas allowed himself to pretend that he hadn't seen her and went back to focusing on interactions and conversations going on between members of the Court.

It would not be long before the King had his divorce, with the new year in the air everything felt ready for change.

Sensing danger coming from another part of the room to Queen Katherine, Thomas carefully turned his head, this time coming eye-to-eye with Anne Boleyn who was narrowing her eyes at him over the King's shoulder.

The source of this glare was easy, Anne saw he still had his head, she saw he was still at Court and she wasn't happy about it. Thomas lifted his eyebrows and smiled at her, raising his glass and nodding, fighting back a smirk as she turned her head away from him quickly looking even more furious.

Seeing the King looking over his shoulder to see what Anne was looking at Thomas drifted quickly back into the crowds.

Although he was here to collect information for Wolsey Thomas knew that the old cardinal's time was coming to an end. Wiltshire, Norfolk and Suffolk were all against him, even if Thomas had the courage to ask the King to forgive Wolsey he knew that his influence, as it currently stood, would not even match half of one of the noblemen, even when he considered what had happened between him and the King last night.

Thomas drank quickly from his glass as he felt bile in his throat, he was just like one of the King's mistresses, and unless you were Anne Boleyn he tired of you quickly and didn't care what opinion you had as long as you allowed him to offload into you every now and then.

Feeling disgust and dizziness hit him, the pain in his thighs suddenly felt more imminent.

Forcing himself to stay composed he made his way discreetly towards the exit.

The King's Mistress!

Was this all his hard work was for? To become something worse than a whore! He didn't care if he was from the gutter or not he should never have granted permission for the King to do that to him last night.

And he had granted permission. Oh God! That was the worse part. No, the worst part was that he'd enjoyed it, what would Elizabeth say if she knew what he'd done and how he'd felt?

The moment he returned to his rooms, Wolsey's old rooms, he sank down on his bed and clasped his hands together, begging and preying that God would hear and forgive him, although Thomas could see how difficult that would be he had sinned and would be burnt in Hell amongst the rapists and murderers.

Shaking his head he forced himself to remember the scriptures, no, he had not committed the only unforgivable sin of speaking blasphemy about God, whatever those Catholics like More might say.

"I am truly sorry" he whispered, knowing that if God was listening he would hear his words, "it will never happen again, please forgive myself and the King, for I know he is just mad with his love for Mistress Boleyn and frightened of the sin he is living in with the Queen and is not to blame for his action, and..." He was cut-off by a knock at his door.

Ending his prayer, Thomas forced himself to stand, feeling a little less giddy now he'd sat down and relieved his burden to God.

He bowed quickly, it was Anne Boleyn. Thomas wasn't sure how she'd slipped away without anybody noticing, in fact it could only be a few minuets before someone came to find her.

"Mister Cromwell what time did you leave the King's rooms last night?"

Her question shocked and terrified him, though nobody would of guessed because he held his expression. His passive appearance was more important than ever now when dealing with the members of the Court, particularly Anne Boleyn and the King.

"I'm not sure" Thomas answered truthfully, "there is no clock in the hall or my rooms and I didn't think to look at the one in the King's chambers."

He hoped that she'd be happy with this answer and go away, but it was too much to hope for.

Her eyes flicked to Thomas' lip, the one he'd bitten himself and the bruise marks around his mouth that were just beginning to show where the King had clamped his hand over his mouth to stop him waking the palace.

"The King merely dealt with me as punishment for... disturbing yourself and his highness," this was an answer that was no a lie and could be interoperated in a way that would please Anne.

She did indeed look a little more cheerful for a moment, but she quickly frowned again, remembering herself, "Just be careful in the future Mister Cromwell, the King only has so much forgiveness, and I hope I will be there when it runs out."

She left his room closing the door softly behind her, as if she'd never been here at all.

Even though he knew he'd gotten out of it, Thomas also knew that Anne was suspicious and she was not somebody you wanted to make enemy's out of. He'd have to work harder than ever now to grant the King his divorce, to prove without doubt that he was of absolute use to the King, in ways other than the one he'd been used for last night.

But for his plan to happen he'd have to find a way of convincing the King once and for all to break with Rome.

Now he was alone Thomas turned onto his bed with a groan, he couldn't close his eyes and sleep because every time he did his memory would flash back to last night. The sound of the King's panting and determined grunts, the feel of his lips and hand over his mouth and that moment when that unexplainable feeling of burning pleasure broke through his body.

It was in the hands of God now, he could do nothing more about it.

He could still hear the evening's festivities going on in the hall, Charles Brandon's voice seemed to yell out amongst all the others, he was probably drunk by now.

The King may pick smart men as his Chancellors but he did surround himself in all other ways with idiots.

Perhaps the Chancellors were for stimulating conversation and the others were so the King could be in constant reminded that he was still smarter than most of the men of high-breed.

He wondered if he should go back, people were always really open when they were drunk, but Thomas doubted there was anything to be discussed that people didn't already know and Wolsey would soon be in a position where he would no longer be entitled to his information.

Wolsey had fallen from the King's favour.

Even though Thomas had heard that the King had sent him a Christmas present he knew that Boleyn and Norfolk would be ready to shoot Wolsey down again before the King could forgive the Cardinal fully.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that the palace quietened to a reasonable volume for anybody to get to sleep, and yet still Thomas lay awake blinking into the darkness.

He'd kicked off his boots and shaken off his jacket a while ago but hadn't bothered to change into his bed clothes.

Thankfully the King would be busy tomorrow all day no doubt opening presents and receiving that gift from Anne, if he hadn't already taken it tonight, so Thomas would be able to sleep in when he finally drifted off to sleep.

Firmly closing his eyes for the first time that night he forced away the images of himself and the King and remembered his family instead and wondered about how his son was doing, at some point during these fond thoughts he must have drifted off.

Thomas awoke as the midday sun shone brightly through his window onto his face.

He ignored his first instinct which was to pull the covers back over his head and go back to sleep, instead rising from bed and going to wash his face in the basin, splashing the cool water over his eyes hoping it would shock his body into the world of the conscious.

Hopefully nothing important had happened while he was asleep, if it had somebody no doubt would have come for him. More always spent Christmas at home so he'd be unreachable, so after the King and More, Thomas was the most important person inside Hampton Court, at least when it came to political or diplomatic affairs.

It was a strange and amusing thought.

He'd done it, it he'd defined nature, here was he, Thomas Cromwell the son of a Putney blacksmith sitting in a room in Hampton Court where he was noted and important in the running of the country, and if he was successful with giving the King what he wanted then he felt confident now that he would rise higher still.


	8. Chapter 8

Tilting his head to one side Thomas smiled discreetly to himself. He was standing in a small church near the back watching Cramner marry Anne Boleyn and the King.

The King and his new wife grinned at one another adoringly, pressing their mouths together with passion when Cramner nodded for them to do so.

Katharine, the King's old wife had been moved to another house in the country where she was to be addressed as the King's sister, but it was probably better not to mention her to the King at all.

The wedding was in secret of course, the people would have to have time to get used to the idea of the new Queen and a large royal wedding was not the way to do it.

The King lifted his new Queen into his arms, kissing her again before charging down the tiny aisle towards the carriage waiting outside with two smartly dressed horses. The King didn't even glance at him when he passed, hopefully this was a good sign that now the King was married to the woman he loved he would no longer be plagued by such unnatural feelings...

Thomas felt a tightness in his chest, if the King's unnatural feelings had gone away, why hadn't his?

He had been married once and he'd loved his wife, perhaps his problem was the same as the King's, he simply had been too long without a wife, but... He didn't want to marry, somehow the idea of something distracting him from his job seemed even worse than living with his suppressed feelings for the King.

Maybe he just needed some sort of distraction from work, a prostitute?

No. No, he couldn't do that. Thomas had known many women while he was in Europe and most of them had been prostitutes, he'd left that life behind him and wasn't going back.

Besides, the King had no doubt been sleeping with plenty of women he wasn't married to while Katherine still called herself his wife and it hadn't solved his problem, only marriage had.

The King would be away for a few days, it would give Thomas some time to sort himself out. He'd just have to distract himself with more work, the more he did the less time he would have to think about feelings he had of any sort.

He began working out all the things he had to do to ensure that the seal with the church was officially broken. It was a complex report he had to read and an even more complicated one to write. He didn't pause to take in the scenery on his way back to the palace, or stop to nod to the earls and dukes at Hampton, he only stopped when he opened his office door.

More was sitting at his desk flicking through his notes.

"Ah Mr Cromwell" More's voice was a tame as ever, despite the report his was now holding in his hand for Thomas to see.

"More" Thomas nodded his head politely, waiting to see where this was going before he said anything further.

They stayed in silence for a while. Both of them usually followed the method that other people usually always had something to say and that they had to say very little to get what they wanted to hear. But this tactic was not an effective one on each other.

More was the first to cave, "Cromwell," he let out a long and irritated sigh, "what is this?"

"A report" Thomas informed him with a smile that he knew would annoy More excessively and make him more likely to talk.

But More smiled back, adjusting the document so he could read it aloud.

"...Further more the Pope holds no power of the Christian people of Europe, The Gospels speak of Kings ruling alongside God and no Pope is mentioned..." More's eyes scanned a little further down, "...The blood and the body of Christ are not literally the wine we drink and the bread we eat!" More's slammed the report down on the table his eyes digging into Thomas with what could only be described as a look of seething anger, "this is blasphemy!"

"I am acting on the King's orders" Thomas told him, holding the calm smile steady on his face.

More went from red to white and back again. "The King would never... That is to say, this is your doing Cromwell, I should have had you dismissed after Wolsey's death, better still I should have had you burnt months ago!"

Thomas frowned a little, tilting his head in thought. These were unusual words from More, he was usually calm and righteous whatever came his way, even those he burnt never seemed to hold any grudge against him for what he'd done, but now his eyes were tinged pink, evidence of long stressful and sleepless nights and a frown line appeared in his forehead. The Chancellorship must be a heavy burden for him Thomas concluded.

While he'd been on his trail of thought More had apparently been scolding him for his sins, Thomas returned in time to hear More telling him to recant now and he could be spared the flames.

Thomas shook his head, "You misunderstand, I am on the King's business and am answerable to him alone."

The conversation ended there, now More simply looked angry, "you have corrupted one of the most Christian minds in Europe with your Lutheran ways, you will burn in hell Thomas Cromwell!"

Thomas stood aside so that More could see the door and hoped that he got the prompt to use it.

More made to leave with the report still in his hand but Thomas held out a his hand to stop him as he passed, the other coming out for the report.

With an angry sound More shoved the report at him and stormed past into the hallway to look for the King, Thomas knew that he wouldn't find him.

~/~

The King lay in the large bed in one of his many manors next to his new wife. They were both naked and her body was pressed tightly to him. Despite the fact he had released into here several times in the last few hours his mind kept lingering elsewhere.

He had his bride, he had what he wanted and yet he was dissatisfied with what he had. The thrill of the chase was over...

Cromwell... No, Thomas, now he'd been interesting. There was somebody he could never truly posses; even if Thomas had been a woman by his very nature no man could own him and it was that spirit that was so tempting to break.

He'd seen a little that night of the sort of man that Thomas was under that impartial face, he'd been in pain, frightened and yet... that look of lust and guilt.

Henry felt himself hardening at the very thought.

Anne noticed and her hand reached down to stroke his erection, "again your majesty?"

How could he say 'no'?

Sex with Anne was some of the best he'd ever had but those few minuets he'd had with Thomas topped any number of hours that any woman could dish out.

She didn't flinch from him when he touched her, she didn't tremble and she didn't scream when he rammed inside of her. He couldn't hit her, she was the daughter of a gentleman, whereas Thomas was the son of nobody, he was a knave, nobody would criticise him for bruising or hurting him and Thomas wouldn't complain.

"We should go back to the palace tomorrow," he rolled onto his back as he finished, panting slightly and listening to her steady and exhausted breaths beside him.

"Tomorrow?" Anne sounded surprised, her eyes widening despite her lack of energy. She propped herself up on her arm to look at him, "but you said we would be at least three days here."

He kissed her, making sure it lingered, "but I want my people to meet their new Queen and I want them to love you like I do."

This made Anne smile, showing her excitement and nervousness at the prospect of being presented as the Queen of England.

"We ride tomorrow?" The King checked, giving her a playful grin,

"We ride tomorrow" she agreed.

He kissed her once more before rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. He hadn't finished with Thomas yet, his secretary still had a lot more coming to him.

Perhaps he should promote Thomas in some way... But where would he move him, all the positions above his own had been filled.

Maybe someone would die soon. The Duke of Norfolk was old, well, oldish, maybe he'd die soon and Thomas could be his treasurer.

Maybe someone in high office was plotting against him... then he could have them executed and Thomas could replace them.

There were so many possibilities.

His dreams lingered to his chambers, his hands over Thomas' arms, bruising them beneath his hands and he held the other man fast to the blankets of his bed, listening to his splutters of agony and moans of pleasure.

Nobody was here in this dream world to hear them. He let himself moan Thomas' name, leaning down to kiss him, pressing their tongues together with violent passion.

But the eyes, the look of emotion, even in his dreams he could not imagine what Thomas' face would look like if the King possessed him like this. It was unimaginable and that's why he needed to know.

Even though he woke early, Anne was already awake watching him carefully.

"Good morning," she grinned quickly, hiding the contemplating look that had been on her face when he'd first opened his eyes.

"Good morning" he replied, matching her expression pulling her down into a deep and highly sexual kiss which she returned with perhaps a little less eagerness than usual.

Back at Hampton it quickly became clear that both of them wanted to talk to somebody else so the formal presentation was done quickly.

Henry only paused in his rush to look at More, his friend and Chancellor, the poor man looked horrified. In fact to say he looked horrified would be an understatement, to More it was like his entire world was falling apart around him.

There was that irritating knot of guilt that told him he'd done something wrong again.

Anne had slipped off to talk to her uncle, brother and father near the edge of the hall. If he hadn't been so preoccupied looking for his secretary he would have wondered what she was talking about with them, but he supposed it was probably just congratulations and talk about what the wedding night had been like.

"Are you sure?" Her father looked shocked, "you didn't mishear him?"

Anne shook her head, breathing in deeply through her nose, "And he was aroused, father what does that mean?" She glanced at her brother who had so far not said anything on the matter she had just presented.

"But who was he talking about?" Norfolk's voice was calm, even though he was clearly confused by the story he'd been told.

"I told you he called out the name 'Thomas' in his sleep!" She hissed urgently, lowering her voice.

Her father put a hand on her shoulder to calm her, "my dear Thomas is the most common name in the palace, it's even my own name... Not that the King in anyway could have been referring to me. In fact three of his closest advisors have all shared that name, then there's the musician and your old friend the poet..." He looked ready to go on but Anne held up a hand to stop him.

"But how do we find out which one it is?" She shook her head, "I've married him and after all that effort and the love I have developed for him he will still cheat on me with a man!"

The men hushed her, glancing around to make sure nobody had heard their conversation.

"Well I think it's safe to say that his advisors are most likely, although I have heard rumours concerning the musician's interests..." George stopped talking, "but really, you couldn't have chosen one man too old and the other two close to celibate and I'm pretty sure that Cromwell and More... I can't even imagine it."

"Unless the King initiated it..." Norfolk wondered aloud, flicking his eyes up to meet the other's.

Anne's mouth dropped open, as did her father's, George had gone back to looking detached.

"No, hear me out. If the King pushed hard enough I doubt there is anything those three would have refused him, so that eliminates Wolsey because the King would never have initiated something with an older man, besides he's been dead for some time..."

The group turned to look around the hall, but neither More or Cromwell seemed to be in the room.

"You wanted to see me your Majesty?" Thomas hadn't been expecting the King back so early, he'd only had a day to bury himself in his work, though thankfully he had the report finished and almost all the documents written up to present the King with.

They were standing by the table in the King's chambers, Thomas' heart beating like a drum in his chest threatening to escape and reveal to the King once and for all what sinful feelings he had towards him.

"This is the report you asked for..." Thomas reached out to hand the report to the King.

What happened next happened so quickly that Thomas didn't have time to react. The report and the documents were knocked from his grasp, then a hand fixed itself in his hair, pulling and dragging him towards the curtain that separated the King's meeting room from his bedroom.

Thomas felt himself being propelled forwards towards the bed, managing to just catch himself with his hands on the edge of the mattress before he fell.

"You know, I don't understand it Thomas. I'm married to the most beautiful woman in the world, we had sex so many times last night and throughout the whole thing all I could think about was you."

In his shock Thomas forgot to think, he straightened himself up and turned to look at the King, only to find himself now being forced down on the bed under his majesty, being pinned down by a firm hand on his shoulder.

For a while that's how they stayed. Thomas on his back with the King hovering over him, one hand bruising his shoulder and the other beside his head to support himself.

Their eyes were locked, Henry waiting for an emotion to show itself and Thomas waiting for either something to happen or for the King to say something.

"Why do you let me do this Thomas?" Henry asked, his voice low and quiet but just loud enough for the man beneath him to hear.

Thomas blinked, opened his mouth and then closed it, thinking hard before replying. Henry could almost see that brain of his working on the perfect answer.

"I am your majesty's humble servant" was the reply, smooth and unconcerned, a perfect mask over his face and voice.

"There must be more," Henry lowered his mouth to brush his secretary's ear, savouring the moment of triumph when a shiver trembled through his victim. "I heard your moans that night and saw the look in your eyes, you enjoyed it," he said it like a playful challenge, waiting for Thomas to make his move. Was that a faint blush he saw in Thomas' cheeks?

Thomas had no answer or if he did he wasn't going to give it as easily as that.

Releasing his grip on Thomas' shoulder he lowered himself so he was straddling the man's waist instead, his well practised fingers working at the laces of Thomas' breeches while grinding his hips slowly and hard against him.

Thomas gave a sharp intake of breath, closing his eyes to maintain his lack of emotion.

Henry felt his temper beginning to rise. For God's Sake! He'd come home early from his after marriage sex to this man who behaved like he wasn't even in the room.

Where was that emotion he'd seen before!

He stopped his fingers, there was no way now that Thomas was going to get off as easily as that with only one gasp to show for it.

His hands travelled up the length of the other man's body, his index finger brushing against his neck, then fixed both hands around his throat, tightening his grip to a suffocating level.

Thomas convulsed below him, panic flying to his eyes as he struggled against the bed fighting between the urge to pull the King's hands from his throat and to let the King do as he wanted.

Letting out a breath of relief that his sport wasn't going to be spoiled Henry continued, tightening his grip by the moment until Thomas was a tinged-grey colour.

He paused only for a few seconds while Thomas gasped taking pained frantic breaths before covering his mouth with his own, running his tongue along Thomas' teeth and caressing his tongue.

The strain in Thomas' chest as he fought to breath was now obvious as the man's body jolted all over.

Undoing the jacket buttons, Henry made quick work of the shirt as well before breaking the kiss and pressing his teeth and tongue against his collarbone.

To preoccupied with breathing Thomas didn't even seem to register what was happening to him until the King bit down hard on his neck. The secretary gave a small yelp of pain clearly holding back out of fear that someone might hear them.

To Henry that just added to the thrill, the danger of what they were doing or about to do.

"You know it's your fault I'm back early from my wedding holiday," Henry licked at the blood that he'd drawn at Thomas' neck, pausing to suck at the skin around the wound while he waited for more blood to surface.

"M-My fault?" Thomas' voice was weak and trembling, but finally the King had forced the stoic commoner to speak.

He stopped his actions on the man's neck, propping himself up again so that they were facing each other.

Henry brushed his finger gently along the side of Thomas' face, enjoying the nervous look in his partner's eyes as he tried to ignore it, but his aim to remove himself from the situation was quickly failing.

"All I could think about was you" Henry admitted with an ironic laugh, "I dreamed of you after I'd finished thinking about you while consummating my marriage, and now I want you and I'm going to have you."

Thomas' eyes dropped so that he wouldn't have to look at the King any more.

Henry smirked, kissing the side of Thomas' mouth gently for the first time, "Mr Cromwell I do believe you're blushing."

The pink in Thomas' cheeks burnt more fiercely and Henry's words and the man's pupils were beginning to dilate, something Henry had often noticed in women who were attracted to him.

Leaning back into his straddling position and admiring his work.

Thomas' chest, right shoulder and neck were bruised, his neck was also bloody and wet where his mouth had been.

He was so hard now that even his desire to abuse Thomas further couldn't stop him from fulfilling his final need.

His fingers brushed against Thomas' own erection as he worked. The secretary moaned, biting down on the pillow beside his head, his hands trembling indecisively by his sides.

Thomas didn't know what to do, hadn't he vowed to himself that this wouldn't happen again, and yet here he was naked on the King's bed, his body ravaged, one of his legs resting on the King's shoulder, and he was hard with the enjoyment of it all.

A pain almost as sharp as the one when the King had last inserted himself into his body burned from his entrance to his head. His shout was muffled but loud enough to alert anybody who may have happened to be just outside the door.

Henry grinned, continuing to probe for a while until their was room for a second finger.

"You're tighter than a virgin Thomas" Henry grinned, kissing Thomas' thigh like he'd done with so many women before him, "but..." The King's hand closed around his mouth, "like last time I can't have you making too much noise."

Tears were streaming from Thomas' eyes, the distress clearly showing as a mixture of moans and screams were puffed against Henry's hand.

God forgive him, he wanted to hear them, Henry wanted nothing more than to let Thomas scream and yell and curse but he couldn't, at least not here.

If they were caught the whole event would be tidied up by someone, at least that's what he assumed, he'd heard rumours previous Kings with these tendencies, someone had cleaned their mess up for them.

He suppose it would be More.

But whatever happened Thomas would be the one they set charges against, and if Thomas was removed or killed then he wouldn't be able to enjoy him any longer.

Withdrawing his fingers Henry pulled Thomas onto his lap, inserting his own already exposed member into Thomas' stretched entrance.

He pulled his hand away, seizing Thomas' mouth in another kiss, pleased to feel a response as another tongue entwined itself with his own. Thomas was moving to meet Henry's thrusts, gasping and moaning with the contact, similar to the King himself.

"Più veloce..." Thomas' smooth voice was a meagre whisper in his ear, "Più veloce" he repeated a little more urgently.

His arousal was fed more by the use of words he didn't understand, was Thomas speaking Italian?

"Schneller!" Thomas tried again, this time in a dialect that was obviously German, but again the King didn't understand.

Thomas grunted, his hands pressed against the King's chest.

"Plus vite!" Thomas' voice was urgent now, his whole body begging with the King.

French, Henry smirked, now he understood.

Lying Thomas down again for a better angle he began to thrust faster.

"Dio!" Thomas gasped, his breath hitching in his chest as more Italian came cascading out of his mouth.

Even though he didn't understand Henry already loved the foreign tongue, it was more about Thomas that intrigued him. Italian, German, French, how many other languages did this son of a blacksmith speak?

In all honestly Henry could have gone on until the sun went down but he knew that with the number of people in the castle and the likely number to be looking for him he couldn't risk it.

He needed something to end it.

Taking Thomas' face with one hand he force his secretary to look at him, "say you love me in Italian."

Nothing.

Henry thrusted even harder and faster, practically pulling himself out entirely before driving himself back in as deep as he could force himself.

"Ma...Ma non posso" Thomas groaned, releasing himself and letting his eyes roll towards the back of his head, but Henry wasn't going to let it go that easily, he knew enough about Latin languages to know that wasn't the answer he wanted.

"Say it" Henry pressed, reading to pull Thomas' hair any moment to make him, but first he wanted him to say it without force just to see if he would.

"Ti..." Thomas struggled over the words, "T-Ti amo il mio re."

Henry released, enjoying the utopian feeling that swum through his head and he fell down in the bed next to Thomas.

Thomas looked exhausted but Henry knew he had to move him. Thomas could have Wolsey's old rooms again, he would have given them to More but his chancellor never spent any time here so he'd never done it.

Thomas seemed to understand because he stumbled to his feet, redressing himself while his body waved from side-to-side as he struggled to stay balanced.

He managed a clumsy bow to the King then left the room murmuring something over his shoulder that sounded like "don't forget to read the report."

_**Author's Note: Should I write a sequel or leave it as this?**_


End file.
